LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


3   1822  01101    8454 


M 


GALLEGHER 

AND     OTHER     STORIES 


'Why,  it's  Gallcghcr,"  said  the  night  editor. 


THE  NOVELS  AND  STORIES  OF 
RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS 


GALLEGHER 

AND    OTHER    STORIES 


BY 


RICHARD   HARDING   DAVIS; 


WITH    AN    INTRODUCTION    BY 

E.  L.  BURLINGAME 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1917 


"Gidlegher,"  copyright,  1891,  by  CHARLES  SCRIBNBR'S  SONS. 


••  The  Princess,  Aline,'  copyright,  1885,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


•Tfce  Ki»e's  Jackal,"  copyright,  im,  1889,  by  CHARLES  SCRIBNBR'S  SONS. 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


TO 

MY  MOTHER 


RICHARD    HARDING    DAVIS 

ONE  of  the  most  attractive  and  inspiring  things 
about  Richard  Harding  Davis  was  the  simple,  al 
most  matter-of-course  way  in  which  he  put  into  prac 
tise  his  views  of  life — in  which  he  acted,  and  in  fact 
was,  what  he  believed.  With  most  of  us,  to  have 
opinions  as  to  what  is  the  right  thing  to  do  is  at  the 
best  to  worry  a  good  deal  as  to  whether  we  are 
doing  it;  at  the  worst  to  be  conscious  of  doubts  as 
to  whether  it  is  a  sufficient  code,  or  perhaps  whether 
it  isn't  beyond  us.  Davis  seemed  to  have  neither  of 
these  wasters  of  strength.  He  had  certain  simple, 
clean,  manly  convictions  as  to  how  a  man  should 
act;  apparently  quite  without  self-consciousness  in 
this  respect,  whatever  little  mannerisms  or  points 
of  pride  he  may  have  had  in  others — fewer  than 
most  men  of  his  success  and  fastidiousness — he  went 
ahead  and  did  accordingly,  untormented  by  any 
alternatives  or  casuistries,  which  for  him  did  not 
seem  to  exist.  He  was  so  genuinely  straightforward 
that  he  could  not  sophisticate  even  himself,  as  al 
most  every  man  occasionally  does  under  temptation. 
He,  at  least,  never  needed  to  be  told 

"  Go  put  your  creed  into  your  deed 
Nor  speak  with  double  tongue." 

vii 


RICHARD  HARDING   DAVIS 

It  is  so  impossible  not  to  think  first  of  the  man, 
as  the  testimony  of  every  one  who  knew  him  shows, 
that  those  who  have  long  had  occasion  to  watch  and 
follow  his  work,  not  merely  with  enjoyment  but 
somewhat  critically,  may  well  look  upon  any  de 
tailed  discussion  of  it  as  something  to  be  kept  till 
later.  But  there  is  more  to  be  said  than  to  recall 
the  unfailing  zest  of  it,  the  extraordinary  freshness 
of  eye,  the  indomitable  youthfulness  and  health 
of  spirit — all  the  qualities  that  we  associate  with 
Davis  himself.  It  was  serious  work  in  a  sense 
that  only  the  more  thoughtful  of  its  critics  had 
begun  of  late  to  comprehend.  It  had  not  inspired  a 
body  of  disciples  like  Kipling's,  but  it  had  helped 
to  clear  the  air  and  to  give  a  new  proof  of  the  vitality 
of  certain  ideals — even  of  a  few  of  the  simpler  ones 
now  outmoded  in  current  masterpieces;  and  it  was 
at  its  best  far  truer  in  an  artistic  sense  than  it  was 
the  fashion  of  its  easy  critics  to  allow.  Whether 
Davis  could  or  would  have  written  a  novel  of  the 
higher  rank  is  a  useless  question  now;  he  himself, 
who  was  a  critic  of  his  own  work  without  illusions 
or  affectation,  used  to  say  that  he  could  not;  but  it 
is  certain  that  in  the  early  part  of  "Captain  Mack- 
lin"  he  displayed  a  power  really  Thackerayan  in 
kind. 

Of  his  descriptive  writing  there  need  be  no  fear  of 
speaking  with  extravagance;  he  had  made  himself, 
especially  in  his  later  work,  through  long  practise 

vifi 


RICHARD   HARDING  DAVIS 

and  his  inborn  instinct  for  the  significant  and  the 
fresh  aspect,  quite  the  best  of  all  contemporary  cor 
respondents  and  reporters;  and  his  rivals  in  the  past 
could  be  easily  numbered. 

E.   L.    BURLINGAME. 


CONTENTS 

Richard  Harding  Davis E.  L.  Burlingame 


PAGE 

GALLEGHER:  A  NEWSPAPER  STORY  i 


THE    PRINCESS    ALINE 55 

THE    KING'S   JACKAL 173 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

'WHY,    IT'S    GALLEGHER,"    SAID    THE   NIGHT 
EDITOR Frontispiece 


FACING 
PACE 


"FOR  GOD'S  SAKE,"  HADE   BEGGED,   "LET  ME 

GO" 34 

THE  PRINCESS  ALINE  OF  HOHENWALD     .    .      66 

A  MAN  WAS  TALKING;  HE  SPOKE  IN  ENGLISH, 
WITH  AN  ACCENT 96 

"I  SUPPOSE  IT  IS  BECAUSE  YOU  ARE  FIGHT 
ING  FOR  YOUR  HOME" 248 

HE  SWUNG  THE  CROWN  PRINCE  HIGH  UPON 
HIS  SHOULDER 298 


GALLEGHER 

A  NEWSPAPER  STORY 


GALLEGHER 

A  NEWSPAPER  STORY 

WE  had  had  so  many  office-boys  before  Gal- 
legher  came  among  us  that  they  had  begun  to 
lose  the  characteristics  of  individuals,  and  be 
came  merged  in  a  composite  photograph  of 
small  boys,  to  whom  we  applied  the  generic 
title  of  "Here,  you";  or  "You,  boy." 

We  had  had  sleepy  boys,  and  lazy  boys,  and 
bright,  "smart"  boys,  who  became  so  familiar 
on  so  short  an  acquaintance  that  we  were  forced 
to  part  with  them  to  save  our  own  self-respect. 

They  generally  graduated  into  district-mes 
senger  boys,  and  occasionally  returned  to  us  in 
blue  coats  with  nickel-plated  buttons,  and  pat 
ronized  us. 

But  Gallegher  was  something  different  from 
anything  we  had  experienced  before.  Galle 
gher  was  short  and  broad  in  build,  with  a  solid, 
muscular  broadness,  and  not  a  fat  and  dumpy 
shortness.  He  wore  perpetually  on  his  face  a 
happy  and  knowing  smile,  as  if  you  and  the 
world  in  general  were  not  impressing  him  as 
seriously  as  you  thought  you  were,  and  his 

3 


GALLEGHER 

eyes,  which  were  very  black  and  very  bright, 
snapped  intelligently  at  you  like  those  of  a 
little  black-and-tan  terrier. 

All  Gallegher  knew  had  been  learnt  on  the 
streets;  not  a  very  good  school  in  itself,  but  one 
that  turns  out  very  knowing  scholars.  And 
Gallegher  had  attended  both  morning  and  eve 
ning  sessions.  He  could  not  tell  you  who  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers  were,  nor  could  he  name  the 
thirteen  original  States,  but  he  knew  all  the 
officers  of  the  twenty-second  police  district  by 
name,  and  he  could  distinguish  the  clang  of  a 
fire-engine's  gong  from  that  of  a  patrol-wagon 
or  an  ambulance  fully  two  blocks  distant.  It 
was  Gallegher  who  rang  the  alarm  when  the 
Woolwich  Mills  caught  fire,  while  the  officer  on 
the  beat  was  asleep,  and  it  was  Gallegher  who 
led  the  "Black  Diamonds"  against  the  "Wharf 
Rats,  when  they  used  to  stone  each  other  to 
their  heart's  content  on  the  coal-wharves  of 
Richmond. 

I  am  afraid,  now  that  I  see  these  facts  written 
down,  that  Gallegher  was  not  a  reputable  char 
acter;  but  he  was  so  very  young  and  so  very 
old  for  his  years  that  we  all  liked  him  very 
much  nevertheless.  He  lived  in  the  extreme 
northern  part  of  Philadelphia,  where  the  cotton 
and  woollen  mills  run  down  to  the  river,  and 
how  he  ever  got  home  after  leaving  the  Press 

4 


GALLEGHER 

building  at  two  in  the  morning,  was  one  of  the 
mysteries  of  the  office.  Sometimes  he  caught 
a  night  car,  and  sometimes  he  walked  all  the 
way,  arriving  at  the  little  house,  where  his 
mother  and  himself  lived  alone,  at  four  in  the 
morning.  Occasionally  he  was  given  a  ride  on 
an  early  milk-cart,  or  on  one  of  the  newspaper 
delivery  wagons,  with  its  high  piles  of  papers 
still  damp  and  sticky  from  the  press.  He  knew 
several  drivers  of  "night  hawks"  —those  cabs 
that  prowl  the  streets  at  night  looking  for  be 
lated  passengers — and  when  it  was  a  very  cold 
morning  he  would  not  go  home  at  all,  but  would 
crawl  into  one  of  these  cabs  and  sleep,  curled 
up  on  the  cushions,  until  daylight. 

Besides  being  quick  and  cheerful,  Gallegher 
possessed  a  power  of  amusing  the  Press's  young 
men  to  a  degree  seldom  attained  by  the  ordi 
nary  mortal.  His  clog-dancing  on  the  city 
editor's  desk,  when  that  gentleman  was  up 
stairs  fighting  for  two  more  columns  of  space, 
was  always  a  source  of  innocent  joy  to  us,  and 
his  imitations  of  the  comedians  of  the  variety 
halls  delighted  even  the  dramatic  critic,  from 
whom  the  comedians  themselves  failed  to  force 
a  smile. 

But  Gallegher's  chief  characteristic  was  his 
love  for  that  element  of  news  generically  classed 
as  "crime." 


GALLEGHER 

Not  that  he  ever  did  anything  criminal  him 
self.  On  the  contrary,  his  was  rather  the  work 
of  the  criminal  specialist,  and  his  morbid  inter 
est  in  the  doings  of  all  queer  characters,  his 
knowledge  of  their  methods,  their  present 
whereabouts,  and  their  past  deeds  of  transgres 
sion  often  rendered  him  a  valuable  ally  to  our 
police  reporter,  whose  daily  feuilletons  were 
the  only  portion  of  the  paper  Gallegher  deigned 
to  read. 

In  Gallegher  the  detective  element  was  ab 
normally  developed.  He  had  shown  this  on 
several  occasions,  and  to  excellent  purpose. 

Once  the  paper  had  sent  him  into  a  Home 
for  Destitute  Orphans  which  was  believed  to  be 
grievously  mismanaged,  and  Gallegher,  while 
playing  the  part  of  a  destitute  orphan,  kept  his 
eyes  open  to  what  was  going  on  around  him  so 
faithfully  that  the  story  he  told  of  the  treat 
ment  meted  out  to  the  real  orphans  was  suffi 
cient  to  rescue  the  unhappy  little  wretches  from 
the  individual  who  had  them  in  charge,  and  to 
have  the  individual  himself  sent  to  jail. 

Gallegher's  knowledge  of  the  aliases,  terms 
of  imprisonment,  and  various  misdoings  of  the 
leading  criminals  in  Philadelphia  was  almost  as 
thorough  as  that  of  the  chief  of  police  himself, 
and  he  could  tell  to  an  hour  when  "Dutchy 
Mack"  was  to  be  let  out  of  prison,  and  could 

6 


GALLEGHER 

identify  at  a  glance  "Dick  Oxford,  confidence 
man,"  as  "Gentleman  Dan,  petty  thief." 

There  were,  at  this  time,  only  two  pieces  of 
news  in  any  of  the  papers.  The  least  impor 
tant  of  the  two  was  the  big  fight  between  the 
Champion  of  the  United  States  and  the  Would- 
be  Champion,  arranged  to  take  place  near 
Philadelphia;  the  second  was  the  Burrbank 
murder,  which  was  filling  space  in  newspapers 
all  over  the  world,  from  New  York  to  Bombay. 

Richard  F.  Burrbank  was  one  of  the  most 
prominent  of  New  York's  railroad  lawyers;  he 
was  also,  as  a  matter  of  course,  an  owner  of 
much  railroad  stock,  and  a  very  wealthy  man. 
He  had  been  spoken  of  as  a  political  possibility 
for  many  high  offices,  and,  as  the  counsel  for  a 
great  railroad,  was  known  even  further  than  the 
great  railroad  itself  had  stretched  its  system. 

At  six  o'clock  one  morning  he  was  found  by 
his  butler  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  hall  stairs 
with  two  pistol  wounds  above  his  heart.  He 
was  quite  dead.  His  safe,  to  which  only  he 
and  his  secretary  had  the  keys,  was  found  open, 
and  $200,000  in  bonds,  stocks,  and  money, 
which  had  been  placed  there  only  the  night 
before,  was  found  missing.  The  secretary  was 
missing  also.  His  name  was  Stephen  S.  Hade, 
and  his  name  and  his  description  had  been  tele 
graphed  and  cabled  to  all  parts  of  the  world. 

7 


GALLEGHER 

There  was  enough  circumstantial  evidence  to 
show,  beyond  any  question  or  possibility  of 
mistake,  that  he  was  the  murderer. 

It  made  an  enormous  amount  of  talk,  and 
unhappy  individuals  were  being  arrested  all 
over  the  country,  and  sent  on  to  New  York  for 
identification.  Three  had  been  arrested  at 
Liverpool,  and  one  man  just  as  he  landed  at 
Sydney,  Australia.  But  so  far  the  murderer 
had  escaped. 

We  were  all  talking  about  it  one  night,  as 
everybody  else  was  all  over  the  country,  in  the 
local  room,  and  the  city  editor  said  it  was  worth 
a  fortune  to  any  one  who  chanced  to  run  across 
Hade  and  succeeded  in  handing  him  over  to 
the  police.  Some  of  us  thought  Hade  had 
taken  passage  from  some  one  of  the  smaller 
seaports,  and  others  were  of  the  opinion  that 
he  had  buried  himself  in  some  cheap  lodging- 
house  in  New  York,  or  in  one  of  the  smaller 
towns  in  New  Jersey. 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  to  meet  him  out 
walking,  right  here  in  Philadelphia,"  said  one 
of  the  staff.  "He'll  be  disguised,  of  course, 
but  you  could  always  tell  him  by  the  absence 
of  the  trigger  finger  on  his  right  hand.  It's 
missing,  you  know;  shot  off  when  he  was  a  boy." 

'You  want  to  look  for  a  man  dressed  like  a 
tough,"  said  the  city  editor;  "for  as  this  fellow 

8 


GALLEGHER 

is  to  all  appearances  a  gentleman,  he  will  try 
to  look  as  little  like  a  gentleman  as  possible." 

"No,  he  won't,"  said  Gallegher,  with  that 
calm  impertinence  that  made  him  dear  to  us. 
"He'll  dress  just  like  a  gentleman.  Toughs 
don't  wear  gloves,  and  you  see  he's  got  to  wear 
'em.  The  first  thing  he  thought  of  after  doing 
for  Burrbank  was  of  that  gone  finger,  and  how 
he  was  to  hide  it.  He  stuffed  the  finger  of  that 
glove  with  cotton  so's  to  make  it  look  like  a 
whole  finger,  and  the  first  time  he  takes  off 
that  glove  they've  got  him — see,  and  he  knows 
it.  So  what  youse  want  to  do  is  to  look  for  a 
man  with  gloves  on.  I've  been  a-doing  it  for 
two  weeks  now,  and  I  can  tell  you  it's  hard 
work,  for  everybody  wears  gloves  this  kind  of 
weather.  But  if  you  look  long  enough  you'll 
find  him.  And  when  you  think  it's  him,  go  up 
to  him  and  hold  out  your  hand  in  a  friendly 
way,  like  a  bunco-steerer,  and  shake  his  hand; 
and  if  you  feel  that  his  forefinger  ain't  real  flesh, 
but  just  wadded  cotton,  then  grip  to  it  with 
your  right  and  grab  his  throat  with  your  left, 
and  holler  for  help." 

There  was  an  appreciative  pause. 

"I  see,  gentlemen,"  said  the  city  editor, 
dryly,  "that  Gallegher's  reasoning  has  im 
pressed  you ;  and  I  also  see  that  before  the  week 
is  out  all  of  my  young  men  will  be  under  bonds 

9 


GALLEGHER 

for  assaulting  innocent  pedestrians  whose  only 
offense  is  that  they  wear  gloves  in  midwinter." 


It  was  about  a  week  after  this  that  Detective 
Hefflefmger,  of  Inspector  Byrnes's  staff,  came 
over  to  Philadelphia  after  a  burglar,  of  whose 
whereabouts  he  had  been  misinformed  by  tele 
graph.  He  brought  the  warrant,  requisition, 
and  other  necessary  papers  with  him,  but  the 
burglar  had  flown.  One  of  our  reporters  had 
worked  on  a  New  York  paper,  and  knew  Hefffe- 
fmger,  and  the  detective  came  to  the  office  to 
see  if  he  could  help  him  in  his  so  far  unsuccess 
ful  search. 

He  gave  Gallegher  his  card,  and  after  Galle- 
gher  had  read  it,  and  had  discovered  who  the 
visitor  was,  he  became  so  demoralized  that  he 
was  absolutely  useless. 

"One  of  Byrnes's  men"  was  a  much  more 
awe-inspiring  individual  to  Gallegher  than  a 
member  of  the  Cabinet.  He  accordingly  seized 
his  hat  and  overcoat,  and  leaving  his  duties  to 
be  looked  after  by  others,  hastened  out  after 
the  object  of  his  admiration,  who  found  his 
suggestions  and  knowledge  of  the  city  so  valu 
able,  and  his  company  so  entertaining,  that 
they  became  very  intimate,  and  spent  the  rest 
of  the  day  together. 

10 


GALLEGHER 

In  the  meanwhile  the  managing  editor  had 
instructed  his  subordinates  to  inform  Gallegher, 
when  he  condescended  to  return,  that  his  ser 
vices  were  no  longer  needed.  Gallegher  had 
played  truant  once  too  often.  Unconscious  of 
this,  he  remained  with  his  new  friend  until  late 
the  same  evening,  and  started  the  next  after 
noon  toward  the  Press  office. 

As  I  have  said,  Gallegher  lived  in  the  most 
distant  part  of  the  city,  not  many  minutes' 
walk  from  the  Kensington  railroad  station, 
where  trains  ran  into  the  suburbs  and  on  to 
New  York. 

It  was  in  front  of  this  station  that  a  smoothly 
shaven,  well-dressed  man  brushed  past  Galle 
gher  and  hurried  up  the  steps  to  the  ticket 
office. 

He  held  a  walking-stick  in  his  right  hand, 
and  Gallegher,  who  now  patiently  scrutinized 
the  hands  of  every  one  who  wore  gloves,  saw 
that  while  three  fingers  of  the  man's  hand  were 
closed  around  the  cane,  the  fourth  stood  out  in 
almost  a  straight  line  with  his  palm. 

Gallegher  stopped  with  a  gasp  and  with  a 
trembling  all  over  his  little  body,  and  his  brain 
asked  with  a  throb  if  it  could  be  possible.  But 
possibilities  and  probabilities  were  to  be  dis 
covered  later.  Now  was  the  time  for  action. 

ii 


GALLEGHER 

He  was  after  the  man  in  a  moment,  hanging 
at  his  heels  and  his  eyes  moist  with  excitement. 

He  heard  the  man  ask  for  a  ticket  to  Torres- 
dale,  a  little  station  just  outside  of  Philadelphia, 
and  when  he  was  out  of  hearing,  but  not  out 
of  sight,  purchased  one  for  the  same  place. 

The  stranger  went  into  the  smoking-car,  and 
seated  himself  at  one  end  toward  the  door. 
Gallegher  took  his  place  at  the  opposite  end. 

He  was  trembling  all  over,  and  suffered  from 
a  slight  feeling  of  nausea.  He  guessed  it  came 
from  fright,  not  of  any  bodily  harm  that  might 
come  to  him,  but  of  the  probability  of  failure 
in  his  adventure  and  of  its  most  momentous 
possibilities. 

i  The  stranger  pulled  his  coat  collar  up  around 
his  ears,  hiding  the  lower  portion  of  his  face, 
but  not  concealing  the  resemblance  in  his 
troubled  eyes  and  close-shut  lips  to  the  like 
nesses  of  the  murderer  Hade. 

They  reached  Torresdale  in  half  an  hour,  and 
the  stranger,  alighting  quickly,  struck  off  at  a 
rapid  pace  down  the  country  road  leading  to 
the  station. 

Gallegher  gave  him  a  hundred  yards'  start, 
and  then  followed  slowly  after.  The  road  ran 
between  fields  and  past  a  few  frame-houses  set 
far  from  the  road  in  kitchen  gardens. 

Once  or  twice  the  man  looked  back  over  his 

12 


GALLEGHER 

shoulder,  but  he  saw  only  a  dreary  length  of 
road  with  a  small  boy  splashing  through  the 
slush  in  the  midst  of  it  and  stopping  every  now 
and  again  to  throw  snowballs  at  belated  spar 
rows. 

After  a  ten  minutes'  walk  the  stranger  turned 
into  a  side  road  which  led  to  only  one  place,  the 
Eagle  Inn,  an  old  roadside  hostelry  known  now 
as  the  headquarters  for  pothunters  from  the 
Philadelphia  game  market  and  the  battle 
ground  of  many  a  cock-fight. 

Gallegher  knew  the  place  well.  He  and  his 
young  companions  had  often  stopped  there 
when  out  chestnutting  on  holidays  in  the 
autumn. 

The  son  of  the  man  who  kept  it  had  often 
accompanied  them  on  their  excursions,  and 
though  the  boys  of  the  city  streets  considered 
him  a  dumb  lout,  they  respected  him  somewhat 
owing  to  his  inside  knowledge  of  dog  and  cock 
fights. 

The  stranger  entered  the  inn  at  a  side  door, 
and  Gallegher,  reaching  it  a  few  minutes  later, 
let  him  go  for  the  time  being,  and  set  about 
finding  his  occasional  playmate,  young  Kep- 
pler. 

Keppler's  offspring  was  found  in  the  wood 
shed. 

"Tain't  hard  to  guess  what  brings  you  out 
13 


GALLEGHER 

here,"  said  the  tavern-keeper's  son,  with  a  grin; 
"it's  the  fight." 

"What  fight?"  asked  Gallegher,  unguardedly. 

"What  fight?  Why,  the  fight,"  returned  his 
companion,  with  the  slow  contempt  of  superior 
knowledge.  "It's  to  come  off  here  to-night. 
You  knew  that  as  well  as  me;  anyway  your 
sportin'  editor  knows  it.  He  got  the  tip  last 
night,  but  that  won't  help  you  any.  You 
needn't  think  there's  any  chance  of  your  get 
ting  a  peep  at  it.  Why,  tickets  is  two  hundred 
and  fifty  apiece!" 

"Whew!"  whistled  Gallegher,  "where's  it  to 
be?" 

"  In  the  barn,"  whispered  Keppler.  "  I  helped 
'em  fix  the  ropes  this  morning,  I  did." 

"Gosh,  but  you're  in  luck,"  exclaimed  Galle 
gher,  with  flattering  envy.  "Couldn't  I  jest 
get  a  peep  at  it?" 

"Maybe,"  said  the  gratified  Keppler. 
"  There's  a  winder  with  a  wooden  shutter  at 
the  back  of  the  barn.  You  can  get  in  by  it,  if 
you  have  some  one  to  boost  you  up  to  the  sill." 

"Sa-a-y,"  drawled  Gallegher,  as  if  something 
had  but  just  that  moment  reminded  him. 
"Who's  that  gent  who  come  down  the  road  just 
a  bit  ahead  of  me — him  with  the  cape-coat ! 
Has  he  got  anything  to  do  with  the  fight?" 

"Him?"  repeated  Keppler  in  tones  of  sin- 

14 


GALLEGHER 

cere  disgust.  "No-oh,  he  ain't  no  sport.  He's 
queer,  Dad  thinks.  He  come  here  one  day 
last  week  about  ten  in  the  morning,  said  his 
doctor  told  him  to  go  out  'en  the  country  for 
his  health.  He's  stuck  up  and  citified,  and 
wears  gloves,  and  takes  his  meals  private  in 
his  room,  and  all  that  sort  of  ruck.  They  was 
saying  in  the  saloon  last  night  that  they  thought 
he  was  hiding  from  something,  and  Dad,  just 
to  try  him,  asks  him  last  night  if  he  was  com 
ing  to  see  the  fight.  He  looked  sort  of  scared, 
and  said  he  didn't  want  to  see  no  fight.  And 
then  Dad  says,  'I  guess  you  mean  you  don't 
want  no  fighters  to  see  you.'  Dad  didn't  mean 
no  harm  by  it,  just  passed  it  as  a  joke;  but  Mr. 
Carleton,  as  he  calls  himself,  got  white  as  a 
ghost  an'  says,  Til  go  to  the  fight  willing 
enough,'  and  begins  to  laugh  and  joke.  And 
this  morning  he  went  right  into  the  bar-room, 
where  all  the  sports  were  setting,  and  said  he 
was  going  into  town  to  see  some  friends;  and 
as  he  starts  off  he  laughs  an'  says,  'This  don't 
look  as  if  I  was  afraid  of  seeing  people,  does 
it?'  but  Dad  says  it  was  just  bluff  that  made 
him  do  it,  and  Dad  thinks  that  if  he  hadn't 
said  what  he  did,  this  Mr.  Carleton  wouldn't 
have  left  his  room  at  all." 

Gallegher  had  got  all  he  wanted,  and  much 
more  than  he  had  hoped  for — so  much  more 

15 


GALLEGHER 

that  his  walk  back  to  the  station  was  in  the 
nature  of  a  triumphal  march. 

He  had  twenty  minutes  to  wait  for  the  next 
train,  and  it  seemed  an  hour.  While  waiting  he 
sent  a  telegram  to  HefHefmger  at  his  hotel.  It 
read: 

Your  man  is  near  the  Torresdale  station,  on  Pennsyl 
vania  Railroad;  take  cab,  and  meet  me  at  station.  Wait 
until  I  come.  GALLEGHER. 

With  the  exception  of  one  at  midnight,  no 
other  train  stopped  at  Torresdale  that  evening, 
hence  the  direction  to  take  a  cab. 

The  train  to  the  city  seemed  to  Gallegher  to 
drag  itself  by  inches.  It  stopped  and  backed 
at  purposeless  intervals,  waited  for  an  express 
to  precede  it,  and  dallied  at  stations,  and  when, 
at  last,  it  reached  the  terminus,  Gallegher  was 
out  before  it  had  stopped  and  was  in  the  cab 
and  off  on  his  way  to  the  home  of  the  sporting 
editor. 

The  sporting  editor  was  at  dinner  and  came 
out  in  the  hall  to  see  him,  with  his  napkin  in 
his  hand.  Gallegher  explained  breathlessly  that 
he  had  located  the  murderer  for  whom  the  po 
lice  of  two  continents  were  looking,  and  that  he 
believed,  in  order  to  quiet  the  suspicions  of  the 
people  with  whom  he  was  hiding,  that  he  would 
be  present  at  the  fight  that  night. 

The  sporting  editor  led  Gallegher  into  his 

16 


GALLEGHER 

library   and  shut  the  door.     "Now,"  he  said, 
"go  over  all  that  again." 

Gallegher  went  over  it  again  in  detail,  and 
added  how  he  had  sent  for  Hefflefmger  to  make 
the  arrest  in  order  that  it  might  be  kept  from 
the  knowledge  of  the  local  police  and  from  the 
Philadelphia  reporters. 

"What  I  want  HefHefmger  to  do  is  to  arrest 
Hade  with  the  warrant  he  has  for  the  burglar," 
explained  Gallegher;  "and  to  take  him  on  to 
New  York  on  the  owl  train  that  passes  Torres- 
dale  at  one.  It  don't  get  to  Jersey  City  until 
four  o'clock,  one  hour  after  the  morning  papers 
go  to  press.  Of  course,  we  must  fix  Hefflefmger 
so's  he'll  keep  quiet  and  not  tell  who  his  prisoner 
really  is." 

The  sporting  editor  reached  his  hand  out  to 
pat  Gallegher  on  the  head,  but  changed  his 
mind  and  shook  hands  with  him  instead. 

"My  boy,"  he  said,  "you  are  an  infant  phe 
nomenon.  If  I  can  pull  the  rest  of  this  thing 
off  to-night  it  will  mean  the  $5,000  reward  and 
fame  galore  for  you  and  the  paper.  Now,  I'm 
going  to  write  a  note  to  the  managing  editor, 
and  you  can  take  it  around  to  him  and  tell 
him  what  you've  done  and  what  I  am  going  to 
do,  and  he'll  take  you  back  on  the  paper  and 
raise  your  salary.  Perhaps  you  didn't  know 
you've  been  discharged?" 

17 


GALLEGHER 

"Do  you  think  you  ain't  a-going  to  take  me 
with  you?"  demanded  Gallegher. 

"Why,  certainly  not.  Why  should  I?  It  all 
lies  with  the  detective  and  myself  now.  You've 
done  your  share,  and  done  it  well.  If  the  man's 
caught,  the  reward's  yours.  But  you'd  only  be 
in  the  way  now.  You'd  better  go  to  the  office 
and  make  your  peace  with  the  chief." 

"If  the  paper  can  get  along  without  me,  I 
can  get  along  without  the  old  paper,"  said  Gal 
legher,  hotly.  "And  if  I  ain't  a-going  with 
you,  you  ain't  neither,  for  I  know  where  Heffle- 
finger  is  to  be,  and  you  don't,  and  I  won't  tell 
you." 

"Oh,  very  well,  very  well,"  replied  the  sport 
ing  editor,  weakly  capitulating.  "I'll  send  the 
note  by  a  messenger;  only  mind,  if  you  lose 
your  place,  don't  blame  me." 

Gallegher  wondered  how  this  man  could  value 
a  week's  salary  against  the  excitement  of  seeing 
a  noted  criminal  run  down,  and  of  getting  the 
news  to  the  paper,  and  to  that  one  paper  alone. 

From  that  moment  the  sporting  editor  sank 
in  Gallegher's  estimation. 

Mr.  Dwyer  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  scribbled 
off  the  following  note: 

I  have  received  reliable  information  that  Hade,  the 
Burrbank  murderer,  will  be  present  at  the  fight  to-night. 
We  have  arranged  it  so  that  he  will  be  arrested  quietly 

18 


GALLEGHER 

and  in  such  a  manner  that  the  fact  may  be  kept  from  all 
other  papers.  I  need  not  point  out  to  you  that  this  will 
be  the  most  important  piece  of  news  in  the  country  to 
morrow.  Yours,  etc., 

MICHAEL  E.  DWYER. 

The  sporting  editor  stepped  into  the  waiting 
cab,  while  Gallegher  whispered  the  directions  to 
the  driver.  He  was  told  to  go  first  to  a  district- 
messenger  office,  and  from  there  up  to  the  Ridge 
Avenue  Road,  out  Broad  Street,  and  on  to  the 
old  Eagle  Inn,  near  Torresdale. 

It  was  a  miserable  night.  The  rain  and  snow 
were  falling  together,  and  freezing  as  they  fell. 
The  sporting  editor  got  out  to  send  his  message 
to  the  Press  office,  and  then  lighting  a  cigar,  and 
turning  up  the  collar  of  his  great-coat,  curled  up 
in  the  corner  of  the  cab. 

"Wake  me  when  we  get  there,  Gallegher,"  he 
said.  He  knew  he  had  a  long  ride,  and  much 
rapid  work  before  him,  and  he  was  preparing 
for  the  strain. 

To  Gallegher  the  idea  of  going  to  sleep  seemed 
almost  criminal.  From  the  dark  corner  of  the 
cab  his  eyes  shone  with  excitement,  and  with 
the  awful  joy  of  anticipation.  He  glanced  every 
now  and  then  to  where  the  sporting  editor's 
cigar  shone  in  the  darkness,  and  watched  it  as 
it  gradually  burnt  more  dimly  and  went  out. 

19 


GALLEGHER 

The  lights  in  the  shop  windows  threw  a  broad 
glare  across  the  ice  on  the  pavements,  and  the 
lights  from  the  lamp-posts  tossed  the  distorted 
shadow  of  the  cab,  and  the  horse,  and  the 
motionless  driver,  sometimes  before  and  some 
times  behind  them. 

After  half  an  hour  Gallegher  slipped  down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  cab  and  dragged  out  a  lap- 
robe,  in  which  he  wrapped  himself.  It  was 
growing  colder,  and  the  damp,  keen  wind  swept 
in  through  the  cracks  until  the  window-frames 
and  woodwork  were  cold  to  the  touch. 

An  hour  passed,  and  the  cab  was  still  moving 
more  slowly  over  the  rough  surface  of  partly 
paved  streets,  and  by  single  rows  of  new  houses 
standing  at  different  angles  to  each  other  in 
fields  covered  with  ash-heaps  and  brick-kilns. 
Here  and  there  the  gaudy  lights  of  a  drug-store, 
and  the  forerunner  of  suburban  civilization, 
shone  from  the  end  of  a  new  block  of  houses, 
and  the  rubber  cape  of  an  occasional  policeman 
showed  in  the  light  of  the  lamp-post  that  he 
hugged  for  comfort. 

Then  even  the  houses  disappeared,  and  the 
cab  dragged  its  way  between  truck  farms,  with 
desolate-looking  glass-covered  beds,  and  pools 
of  water,  half-caked  with  ice,  and  bare  trees, 
and  interminable  fences. 

Once  or  twice  the  cab  stopped  altogether,  and 

20 


GALLEGHER 

Gallegher  could  hear  the  driver  swearing  to 
himself,  or  at  the  horse,  or  the  roads.  At  last 
they  drew  up  before  the  station  at  Torresdale. 
It  was  quite  deserted,  and  only  a  single  light 
cut  a  swath  in  the  darkness  and  showed  a  por 
tion  of  the  platform,  the  ties,  and  the  rails  glis 
tening  in  the  rain.  They  walked  twice  past 
the  light  before  a  figure  stepped  out  of  the 
shadow  and  greeted  them  cautiously. 

"I  am  Mr.  Dwyer,  of  the  Press"  said  the 
sporting  editor,  briskly.  "  You've  heard  of  me, 
perhaps.  Well,  there  shouldn't  be  any  diffi 
culty  in  our  making  a  deal,  should  there?  This 
boy  here  has  found  Hade,  and  we  have  reason 
to  believe  he  will  be  among  the  spectators  at 
the  fight  to-night.  We  want  you  to  arrest  him 
quietly,  and  as  secretly  as  possible.  You  can 
do  it  with  your  papers  and  your  badge  easily 
enough.  We  want  you  to  pretend  that  you 
believe  he  is  this  burglar  you  came  over  after. 
If  you  will  do  this,  and  take  him  away  without 
any  one  so  much  as  suspecting  who  he  really  is, 
and  on  the  train  that  passes  here  at  1.20  for 
New  York,  we  will  give  you  $500  out  of  the 
$5,000  reward.  If,  however,  one  other  paper, 
either  in  New  York  or  Philadelphia,  or  any 
where  else,  knows  of  the  arrest,  you  won't  get 
a  cent.  Now,  what  do  you  say?" 

The  detective  had  a  great  deal  to  say.  He 

21 


GALLEGHER 

wasn't  at  all  sure  the  man  Gallegher  suspected 
was  Hade;  he  feared  he  might  get  himself  into 
trouble  by  making  a  false  arrest,  and  if  it 
should  be  the  man,  he  was  afraid  the  local  police 
would  interfere. 

"We've  no  time  to  argue  or  debate  this  mat 
ter,"  said  Dwyer,  warmly.  "We  agree  to  point 
Hade  out  to  you  in  the  crowd.  After  the  fight 
is  over  you  arrest  him  as  we  have  directed,  and 
you  get  the  money  and  the  credit  of  the  arrest. 
If  you  don't  like  this,  I  will  arrest  the  man 
myself,  and  have  him  driven  to  town,  with  a 
pistol  for  a  warrant." 

Hefflefinger  considered  in  silence  and  then 
agreed  unconditionally.  "As  you  say,  Mr. 
Dwyer,"  he  returned.  "I've  heard  of  you  for 
a  thoroughbred  sport.  I  know  you'll  do  what 
you  say  you'll  do;  and  as  for  me  I'll  do  what 
you  say  and  just  as  you  say,  and  it's  a  very 
pretty  piece  of  work  as  it  stands." 

They  all  stepped  back  into  the  cab,  and  then 
it  was  that  they  were  met  by  a  fresh  difficulty, 
how  to  get  the  detective  into  the  barn  where 
the  fight  was  to  take  place,  for  neither  of  the 
two  men  had  $250  to  pay  for  his  admittance. 

But  this  was  overcome  when  Gallegher  re 
membered  the  window  of  which  young  Keppler 
had  told  him. 

In  the  event  of  Hade's  losing  courage  and 
22 


GALLEGHER 

not  daring  to  show  himself  in  the  crowd  around 
the  ring,  it  was  agreed  that  Dwyer  should  come 
to  the  barn  and  warn  HefHefinger;  but  if  he 
should  come,  Dwyer  was  merely  to  keep  near 
him  and  to  signify  by  a  prearranged  gesture 
which  one  of  the  crowd  he  was. 

They  drew  up  before  a  great  black  shadow  of 
a  house,  dark,  forbidding,  and  apparently  de 
serted.  But  at  the  sound  of  the  wheels  on  the 
gravel  the  door  opened,  letting  out  a  stream  of 
warm,  cheerful  light,  and  a  man's  voice  said, 
"Put  out  those  lights.  Don't  youse  know  no 
better  than  that?"  This  was  Keppler,  and  he 
welcomed  Mr.  Dwyer  with  effusive  courtesy. 

The  two  men  showed  in  the  stream  of  light, 
and  the  door  closed  on  them,  leaving  the  house 
as  it  was  at  first,  black  and  silent,  save  for  the 
dripping  of  the  rain  and  snow  from  the  eaves. 

The  detective  and  Gallegher  put  out  the  cab's 
lamps  and  led  the  horse  toward  a  long,  low  shed 
in  the  rear  of  the  yard,  which  they  now  noticed 
was  almost  filled  with  teams  of  many  different 
makes,  from  the  Hobson's  choice  of  a  livery 
stable  to  the  brougham  of  the  man  about  town. 

"No,"  said  Gallegher,  as  the  cabman  stopped 
to  hitch  the  horse  beside  the  others,  "we  want 
it  nearest  that  lower  gate.  When  we  news 
paper  men  leave  this  place  we'll  leave  it  in  a 
hurry,  and  the  man  who  is  nearest  town  is 

23 


GALLEGHER 

likely  to  get  there  first.  You  won't  be  a-fol- 
lowing  of  no  hearse  when  you  make  your  return 
trip." 

Gallegher  tied  the  horse  to  the  very  gate-post 
itself,  leaving  the  gate  open  and  allowing  a  clear 
road  and  a  flying  start  for  the  prospective  race 
to  Newspaper  Row. 

The  driver  disappeared  under  the  shelter  of 
the  porch,  and  Gallegher  and  the  detective 
moved  off  cautiously  to  the  rear  of  the  barn. 
"This  must  be  the  window,"  said  Hefflefmger, 
pointing  to  a  broad  wooden  shutter  some  feet 
from  the  ground. 

"Just  you  give  me  a  boost  once,  and  I'll  get 
that  open  in  a  jiffy,"  said  Gallegher. 

The  detective  placed  his  hands  on  his  knees, 
and  Gallegher  stood  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
with  the  blade  of  his  knife  lifted  the  wooden 
button  that  fastened  the  window  on  the  inside, 
and  pulled  the  shutter  open. 

Then  he  put  one  leg  inside  over  the  sill,  and 
leaning  down  helped  to  draw  his  fellow-con 
spirator  up  to  a  level  with  the  window.  "  I  feel 
just  like  I  was  burglarizing  a  house,"  chuckled 
Gallegher,  as  he  dropped  noiselessly  to  the  floor 
below  and  refastened  the  shutter.  The  barn 
was  a  large  one,  with  a  row  of  stalls  on  either 
side  in  which  horses  and  cows  were  dozing. 
There  was  a  hay-mow  over  each  row  of  stalls, 

24 


GALLEGHER 

and  at  one  end  of  the  barn  a  number  of  fence- 
rails  had  been  thrown  across  from  one  mow 
to  the  other.  These  rails  were  covered  with 
hay. 

In  the  middle  of  the  floor  was  the  ring.  It 
was  not  really  a  ring,  but  a  square,  with  wooden 
posts  at  its  four  corners  through  which  ran  a 
heavy  rope.  The  space  enclosed  by  the  rope 
was  covered  with  sawdust. 

Gallegher  could  not  resist  stepping  into  the 
ring,  and  after  stamping  the  sawdust  once  or 
twice,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  he  was  really 
there,  began  dancing  around  it,  and  indulging 
in  such  a  remarkable  series  of  fistic  manoeuvres 
with  an  imaginary  adversary  that  the  unimag 
inative  detective  precipitately  backed  into  a 
corner  of  the  barn. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Gallegher,  having  appar 
ently  vanquished  his  foe,  "you  come  with  me." 
His  companion  followed  quickly  as  Gallegher 
climbed  to  one  of  the  hay-mows,  and  crawling 
carefully  out  on  the  fence- rail,  stretched  him 
self  at  full  length,  face  downward.  In  this  po 
sition,  by  moving  the  straw  a  little,  he  could 
look  down,  without  being  himself  seen,  upon 
the  heads  of  whomsoever  stood  below.  'This 
is  better'n  a  private  box,  ain't  it?"  said  Gal 
legher. 

The  boy  from  the  newspaper  office  and  the 

25 


GALLEGHER 

detective  lay  there  in  silence,  biting  at  straws 
and  tossing  anxiously  on  their  comfortable  bed. 

It  seemed  fully  two  hours  before  they  came. 
Gallegher  had  listened  without  breathing,  and 
with  every  muscle  on  a  strain,  at  least  a  dozen 
times,  when  some  movement  in  the  yard  had 
led  him  to  believe  that  they  were  at  the 
door. 

And  he  had  numerous  doubts  and  fears. 
Sometimes  it  was  that  the  police  had  learnt  of 
the  fight,  and  had  raided  Keppler's  in  his  ab 
sence,  and  again  it  was  that  the  fight  had  been 
postponed,  or,  worst  of  all,  that  it  would  be  put 
off  until  so  late  that  Mr.  Dwyer  could  not  get 
back  in  time  for  the  last  edition  of  the  paper. 
Their  coming,  when  at  last  they  came,  was 
heralded  by  an  advance-guard  of  two  sporting 
men,  who  stationed  themselves  at  either  side  of 
the  big  door. 

"Hurry  up,  now,  gents,"  one  of  the  men 
said  with  a  shiver,  "don't  keep  this  door  open 
no  longer' n  is  needful." 

It  was  not  a  very  large  crowd,  but  it  was 
wonderfully  well  selected.  It  ran,  in  the  ma 
jority  of  its  component  parts,  to  heavy  white 
coats  with  pearl  buttons.  The  white  coats 
were  shouldered  by  long  blue  coats  with  astra 
khan  fur  trimmings,  the  wearers  of  which  pre 
served  a  cliqueness  not  remarkable  when  one 

26 


GALLEGHER 

considers  that  they  believed  every  one  else 
present  to  be  either  a  crook  or  a  prize-fighter. 

There  were  well-fed,  well-groomed  club-men 
and  brokers  in  the  crowd,  a  politician  or  two,  a 
popular  comedian  with  his  manager,  amateur 
boxers  from  the  athletic  clubs,  and  quiet,  close- 
mouthed  sporting  men  from  every  city  in  the 
country.  Their  names  if  printed  in  the  papers 
would  have  been  as  familiar  as  the  types  of  the 
papers  themselves. 

And  among  these  men,  whose  only  thought 
was  of  the  brutal  sport  to  come,  was  Hade,  with 
Dwyer  standing  at  ease  at  his  shoulder, — Hade, 
white,  and  visibly  in  deep  anxiety,  hiding  his 
pale  face  beneath  a  cloth  travelling-cap,  and 
with  his  chin  muffled  in  a  woollen  scarf.  He 
had  dared  to  come  because  he  feared  his  danger 
from  the  already  suspicious  Keppler  was  less 
than  if  he  stayed  away.  And  so  he  was  there, 
hovering  restlessly  on  the  border  of  the  crowd, 
feeling  his  danger  and  sick  with  fear. 

When  HefHefinger  first  saw  him  he  started 
up  on  his  hands  and  elbows  and  made  a  move 
ment  forward  as  if  he  would  leap  down  then  and 
there  and  carry  off  his  prisoner  single-handed. 

"Lie  down,"  growled  Gallegher;  "an  officer  of 
any  sort  wouldn't  live  three  minures  in  that 
crowd." 

The  detective  drew  back  slowly  and  buried 

27 


GALLEGHER 

himself  again  in  the  straw,  but  never  once 
through  the  long  fight  which  followed  did  his 
eyes  leave  the  person  of  the  murderer.  The 
newspaper  men  took  their  places  in  the  foremost 
row  close  around  the  ring,  and  kept  looking  at 
their  watches  and  begging  the  master  of  cere 
monies  to  "shake  it  up,  do." 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  betting,  and  all  of 
the  men  handled  the  great  rolls  of  bills  they 
wagered  with  a  flippant  recklessness  which 
could  only  be  accounted  for  in  Gallegher's 
mind  by  temporary  mental  derangement.  Some 
one  pulled  a  box  out  into  the  ring  and  the  mas 
ter  of  ceremonies  mounted  it,  and  pointed  out 
in  forcible  language  that  as  they  were  almost 
all  already  under  bonds  to  keep  the  peace,  it 
behooved  all  to  curb  their  excitement  and  to 
maintain  a  severe  silence,  unless  they  wanted 
to  bring  the  police  upon  them  and  have  them 
selves  "sent  down"  for  a  year  or  two. 

Then  two  very  disreputable-looking  persons 
tossed  their  respective  principals'  high  hats 
into  the  ring,  and  the  crowd,  recognizing  in 
this  relic  of  the  days  when  brave  knights  threw 
down  their  gauntlets  in  the  lists  as  only  a  sign 
that  the  fight  was  about  to  begin,  cheered 
tumultuously. 

This  was  followed  by  a  sudden  surging  for 
ward,  and  a  mutter  of  admiration  much  more 

28 


GALLEGHER 

flattering  than  the  cheers  had  been,  when  the 
principals  followed  their  hats  and,  slipping  out 
of  their  great-coats,  stood  forth  in  all  the  physi 
cal  beauty  of  the  perfect  brute. 

Their  pink  skin  was  as  soft  and  healthy-look 
ing  as  a  baby's,  and  glowed  in  the  lights  of  the 
lanterns  like  tinted  ivory,  and  underneath  this 
silken  covering  the  great  biceps  and  muscles 
moved  in  and  out  and  looked  like  the  coils  of  a 
snake  around  the  branch  of  a  tree. 

Gentleman  and  blackguard  shouldered  each 
other  for  a  nearer  view;  the  coachmen,  whose 
metal  buttons  were  unpleasantly  suggestive  of 
police,  put  their  hands,  in  the  excitement  of  the 
moment,  on  the  shoulders  of  their  masters;  the 
perspiration  stood  out  in  great  drops  on  the 
foreheads  of  the  backers,  and  the  newspaper 
men  bit  somewhat  nervously  at  the  ends  of 
their  pencils. 

And  in  the  stalls  the  cows  munched  content 
edly  at  their  cuds  and  gazed  with  gentle  curi 
osity  at  their  two  fellow-brutes,  who  stood  wait 
ing  the  signal  to  fall  upon  and  kill  each  other, 
if  need  be,  for  the  delectation  of  their  brothers. 

'Take  your  places,"  commanded  the  master 
of  ceremonies. 

In  the  moment  in  which  the  two  men  faced 
each  other  the  crowd  became  so  still  that,  save 
for  the  beating  of  the  rain  upon  the  shingled 

29 


GALLEGHER 

roof  and  the  stamping  of  a  horse  in  one  of  the 
stalls,  the  place  was  as  silent  as  a  church. 

"Time,"  shouted  the  master  of  ceremonies. 

The  two  men  sprang  into  a  posture  of  de 
fense,  which  was  lost  as  quickly  as  it  was  taken, 
one  great  arm  shot  out  like  a  piston-rod;  there 
was  the  sound  of  bare  fists  beating  on  naked 
flesh;  there  was  an  exultant  indrawn  gasp  of 
savage  pleasure  and  relief  from  the  crowd,  and 
the  great  fight  had  begun. 

How  the  fortunes  of  war  rose  and  fell,  and 
changed  and  rechanged  that  night,  is  an  old 
story  to  those  who  listen  to  such  stories;  and 
those  who  do  not  will  be  glad  to  be  spared  the 
telling  of  it.  It  was,  they  say,  one  of  the  bit 
terest  fights  between  two  men  that  this  country 
has  ever  known. 

But  all  that  is  of  interest  here  is  that  after 
an  hour  of  this  desperate,  brutal  business  the 
champion  ceased  to  be  the  favorite;  the  man 
whom  he  had  taunted  and  bullied,  and  for 
whom  the  public  had  but  little  sympathy,  was 
proving  himself  a  likely  winner,  and  under  his 
cruel  blows,  as  sharp  and  clean  as  those  from 
a  cutlass,  his  opponent  was  rapidly  giving  way. 

The  men  about  the  ropes  were  past  all  con 
trol  now;  they  drowned  Keppler's  petitions  for 
silence  with  oaths  and  in  inarticulate  shouts  of 
anger,  as  if  the  blows  had  fallen  upon  them,  and 

30 


GALLEGHER 

in  mad  rejoicings.  They  swept  from  one  end 
of  the  ring  to  the  other,  with  every  muscle 
leaping  in  unison  with  those  of  the  man  they 
favored,  and  when  a  New  York  correspondent 
muttered  over  his  shoulder  that  this  would  be 
the  biggest  sporting  surprise  since  the  Heenan- 
Sayers  fight,  Mr.  Dwyer  nodded  his  head  sym 
pathetically  in  assent. 

In  the  excitement  and  tumult  it  is  doubtful 
if  any  heard  the  three  quickly  repeated  blows 
that  fell  heavily  from  the  outside  upon  the  big 
doors  of  the  barn.  If  they  did,  it  was  already 
too  late  to  mend  matters,  for  the  door  fell,  torn 
from  its  hinges,  and  as  it  fell  a  captain  of  police 
sprang  into  the  light  from  out  of  the  storm, 
with  his  lieutenants  and  their  men  crowding 
close  at  his  shoulder. 

In  the  panic  and  stampede  that  followed,  sev 
eral  of  the  men  stood  as  helplessly  immovable 
as  though  they  had  seen  a  ghost;  others  made  a 
mad  rush  into  the  arms  of  the  officers  and  were 
beaten  back  against  the  ropes  of  the  ring;  others 
dived  headlong  into  the  stalls,  among  the  horses 
and  cattle,  and  still  others  shoved  the  rolls  of 
money  they  held  into  the  hands  of  the  police 
and  begged  like  children  to  be  allowed  to  escape. 

The  instant  the  door  fell  and  the  raid  was 
declared  Hefflefinger  slipped  over  the  cross  rails 
on  which  he  had  been  lying,  hung  for  an  instant 


GALLEGHER 

by  his  hands,  and  then  dropped  into  the  centre 
of  the  fighting  mob  on  the  floor.  He  was  out 
of  it  in  an  instant  with  the  agility  of  a  pick 
pocket,  was  across  the  room  and  at  Hade's 
throat  like  a  dog.  The  murderer,  for  the  mo 
ment,  was  the  calmer  man  of  the  two. 

"Here,"  he  panted,  "hands  off,  now.  There's 
no  need  for  all  this  violence.  There's  no  great 
harm  in  looking  at  a  fight,  is  there?  There's  a 
hundred-dollar  bill  in  my  right  hand;  take  it 
and  let  me  slip  out  of  this.  No  one  is  looking. 
Here." 

But  the  detective  only  held  him  the  closer. 

"I  want  you  for  burglary,"  he  whispered 
under  his  breath.  :< You've  got  to  come  with 
me  now,  and  quick.  The  less  fuss  you  make, 
the  better  for  both  of  us.  If  you  don't  know 
who  I  am,  you  can  feel  my  badge  under  my 
coat  there.  I've  got  the  authority.  It's  all 
regular,  and  when  we're  out  of  this  d — d  row 
I'll  show  you  the  papers." 

He  took  one  hand  from  Hade's  throat  and 
pulled  a  pair  of  handcuffs  from  his  pocket. 

"  It's  a  mistake.  This  is  an  outrage,"  gasped 
the  murderer,  white  and  trembling,  but  dread 
fully  alive  and  desperate  for  his  liberty.  "Let 
me  go,  I  tell  you  !  Take  your  hands  off  of  me ! 
Do  I  look  like  a  burglar,  you  fool?" 

"I  know  who  you  look  like,"  whispered  the 
32 


GALLEGHER 

detective,  with  his  face  close  to  the  face  of  his 
prisoner.  "Now,  will  you  go  easy  as  a  burglar, 
or  shall  I  tell  these  men  who  you  are  and  what 
I  do  want  you  for?  Shall  I  call  out  your  real 
name  or  not?  Shall  I  tell  them?  Quick,  speak 
up;  shall  I?" 

There  was  something  so  exultant — something 
so  unnecessarily  savage  in  the  officer's  face  that 
the  man  he  held  saw  that  the  detective  knew 
him  for  what  he  really  was,  and  the  hands  that 
had  held  his  throat  slipped  down  around  his 
shoulders,  or  he  would  have  fallen.  The  man's 
eyes  opened  and  closed  again,  and  he  swayed 
weakly  backward  and  forward,  and  choked  as 
if  his  throat  were  dry  and  burning.  Even  to 
such  a  hardened  connoisseur  in  crime  as  Gal- 
legher,  who  stood  closely  by,  drinking  it  in, 
there  was  something  so  abject  in  the  man's 
terror  that  he  regarded  him  with  what  was 
almost  a  touch  of  pity. 

"For  God's  sake,"  Hade  begged,  "let  me  go. 
Come  with  me  to  my  room  and  I'll  give  you 
half  the  money.  I'll  divide  with  you  fairly. 
We  can  both  get  away.  There's  a  fortune  for 
both  of  us  there.  We  both  can  get  away. 
You'll  be  rich  for  life.  Do  you  understand— 
for  life!" 

But  the  detective,  to  his  credit,  only  shut  his 
lips  the  tighter. 

33 


GALLEGHER 

:<  That's  enough,"  he  whispered,  in  return. 
"That's  more  than  I  expected.  You've  sen 
tenced  yourself  already.  Come !" 

Two  officers  in  uniform  barred  their  exit  at 
the  door,  but  Hefflefmger  smiled  easily  and 
showed  his  badge. 

"One  of  Byrnes's  men,"  he  said,  in  explana 
tion;  "came  over  expressly  to  take  this  chap. 
He's  a  burglar;  'Arlie'  Lane,  alias  Carleton. 
I've  shown  the  papers  to  the  captain.  It's  all 
regular.  I'm  just  going  to  get  his  traps  at  the 
hotel  and  walk  him  over  to  the  station.  I  guess 
we'll  push  right  on  to  New  York  to-night." 

The  officers  nodded  and  smiled  their  admira 
tion  for  the  representative  of  what  is,  perhaps, 
the  best  detective  force  in  the  world,  and  let 
him  pass. 

Then  Hefflefmger  turned  and  spoke  to  Galle- 
gher,  who  still  stood  as  watchful  as  a  dog  at 
his  side.  "I'm  going  to  his  room  to  get  the 
bonds  and  stuff,"  he  whispered;  "then  I'll 
march  him  to  the  station  and  take  that  train. 
I've  done  my  share;  don't  forget  yours!" 

"Oh,  you'll  get  your  money  right  enough," 
said  Gallegher.  "And,  sa-ay,"  he  added,  with 
the  appreciative  nod  of  an  expert,  "do  you 
know,  you  did  it  rather  well." 

Mr.  Dwyer  had  been  writing  while  the  raid 
was  settling  down,  as  he  had  been  writing  while 

34 


For  God's  sake,"  Hade  begged,  "let  me  go." 


GALLEGHER 

waiting  for  the  fight  to  begin.  Now  he  walked 
over  to  where  the  other  correspondents  stood 
in  angry  conclave. 

The  newspaper  men  had  informed  the  offi 
cers  who  hemmed  them  in  that  they  represented 
the  principal  papers  of  the  country,  and  were 
expostulating  vigorously  with  the  captain,  who 
had  planned  the  raid,  and  who  declared  they 
were  under  arrest. 

"Don't  be  an  ass,  Scott,"  said  Mr.  Dwyer, 
who  was  too  excited  to  be  polite  or  politic. 
"You  know  our  being  here  isn't  a  matter  of 
choice.  We  came  here  on  business,  as  you  did, 
and  you've  no  right  to  hold  us." 

"If  we  don't  get  our  stuff  on  the  wire  at 
once,"  protested  a  New  York  man,  "we'll  be 
too  late  for  to-morrow's  paper,  and— 

Captain  Scott  said  he  did  not  care  a  profanely 
small  amount  for  to-morrow's  paper,  and  that 
all  he  knew  was  that  to  the  station-house  the 
newspaper  men  would  go.  There  they  would 
have  a  hearing,  and  if  the  magistrate  chose  to 
let  them  off,  that  was  the  magistrate's  business, 
but  that  his  duty  was  to  take  them  into  cus 
tody. 

"But  then  it  will  be  too  late,  don't  you  un 
derstand?"  shouted  Mr.  Dwyer.  "  You've  got 
to  let  us  go  now,  at  once." 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Mr.  Dwyer,"  said  the  captain, 
35 


GALLEGHER 

"and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  Why,  haven't  I 
just  sent  the  president  of  the  Junior  Republi 
can  Club  to  the  patrol-wagon,  the  man  that 
put  this  coat  on  me,  and  do  you  think  I  can 
let  you  fellows  go  after  that?  You  were  all 
put  under  bonds  to  keep  the  peace  not  three 
days  ago,  and  here  you're  at  it — fighting  like 
badgers.  It's  worth  my  place  to  let  one  of  you 
off." 

What  Mr.  Dwyer  said  next  was  so  uncompli 
mentary  to  the  gallant  Captain  Scott  that  that 
overwrought  individual  seized  the  sporting  edi 
tor  by  the  shoulder,  and  shoved  him  into  the 
hands  of  two  of  his  men. 

This  was  more  than  the  distinguished  Mr. 
Dwyer  could  brook,  and  he  excitedly  raised  his 
hand  in  resistance.  But  before  he  had  time  to 
do  anything  foolish  his  wrist  was  gripped  by  one 
strong  little  hand,  and  he  was  conscious  that 
another  was  picking  the  pocket  of  his  great 
coat. 

He  slapped  his  hands  to  his  sides,  and  looking 
down,  saw  Gallegher  standing  close  behind  him 
and  holding  him  by  the  wrist.  Mr.  Dwyer  had 
forgotten  the  boy's  existence,  and  would  have 
spoken  sharply  if  something  in  Gallegher's  inno 
cent  eyes  had  not  stopped  him. 

Gallegher's  hand  was  still  in  that  pocket,  in 
which  Mr.  Dwyer  had  shoved  his  note-book 

36 


GALLEGHER 

filled  with  what  he  had  written  of  Gallegher's 
work  and  Hade's  final  capture,  and  with  a  run 
ning  descriptive  account  of  the  fight.  With  his 
eyes  fixed  on  Mr.  Dwyer,  Gallegher  drew  it  out, 
and  with  a  quick  movement  shoved  it  inside 
his  waistcoat.  Mr.  Dwyer  gave  a  nod  of  com 
prehension.  Then  glancing  at  his  two  guards 
men,  and  finding  that  they  were  still  interested 
in  the  wordy  battle  of  the  correspondents  with 
their  chief,  and  had  seen  nothing,  he  stooped 
and  whispered  to  Gallegher:  "The  forms  are 
locked  at  twenty  minutes  to  three.  If  you 
don't  get  there  by  that  time  it  will  be  of  no  use, 
but  if  you're  on  time  you'll  beat  the  town — and 
the  country  too." 

Gallegher's  eyes  flashed  significantly,  and 
nodding  his  head  to  show  he  understood,  started 
boldly  on  a  run  toward  the  door.  But  the  offi 
cers  who  guarded  it  brought  him  to  an  abrupt 
halt,  and,  much  to  Mr.  Dwyer's  astonishment, 
drew  from  him  what  was  apparently  a  torrent 
of  tears. 

"  Let  me  go  to  me  father.  I  want  me  father,'* 
the  boy  shrieked,  hysterically.  "They've  'rest 
ed  father.  Oh,  daddy,  daddy.  They're  a-goin' 
to  take  you  to  prison." 

"Who  is  your  father,  sonny?"  asked  one  of 
the  guardians  of  the  gate. 

"Keppler's  me  father,"  sobbed  Gallegher. 
37 


GALLEGHER 

"They're  a-goin'  to  lock  him  up,  and  I'll  never 
see  him  no  more." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  said  the  officer,  good- 
naturedly;  "he's  there  in  that  first  patrol- 
wagon.  You  can  run  over  and  say  good-night 
to  him,  and  then  you'd  better  get  to  bed.  This 
ain't  no  place  for  kids  of  your  age." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  sniffed  Gallegher,  tear 
fully,  as  the  two  officers  raised  their  clubs,  and 
let  him  pass  out  into  the  darkness. 

The  yard  outside  was  in  a  tumult,  horses 
were  stamping,  and  plunging,  and  backing  the 
carriages  into  one  another;  lights  were  flashing 
from  every  window  of  what  had  been  appar 
ently  an  uninhabited  house,  and  the  voices  of 
the  prisoners  were  still  raised  in  angry  expos 
tulation. 

Three  police  patrol-wagons  were  moving 
about  the  yard,  filled  with  unwilling  passengers, 
who  sat  or  stood,  packed  together  like  sheep 
and  with  no  protection  from  the  sleet  and  rain. 

Gallegher  stole  off  into  a  dark  corner,  and 
watched  the  scene  until  his  eyesight  became 
familiar  with  the  position  of  the  land. 

Then  with  his  eyes  fixed  fearfully  on  the 
swinging  light  of  a  lantern  with  which  an  officer 
was  searching  among  the  carriages,  he  groped 
his  way  between  horses'  hoofs  and  behind  the 
wheels  of  carriages  to  the  cab  which  he  had 

38 


GALLEGHER 

himself  placed  at  the  furthermost  gate.  It  was 
still  there,  and  the  horse,  as  he  had  left  it,  with 
its  head  turned  toward  the  city.  Gallegher 
opened  the  big  gate  noiselessly,  and  worked 
nervously  at  the  hitching  strap.  The  knot  was 
covered  with  a  thin  coating  of  ice,  and  it  was 
several  minutes  before  he  could  loosen  it.  But 
his  teeth  finally  pulled  it  apart,  and  with  the 
reins  in  his  hands  he  sprang  upon  the  wheel. 
And  as  he  stood  so,  a  shock  of  fear  ran  down 
his  back  like  an  electric  current,  his  breath  left 
him,  and  he  stood  immovable,  gazing  with  wide 
eyes  into  the  darkness. 

The  officer  with  the  lantern  had  suddenly 
loomed  up  from  behind  a  carriage  not  fifty  feet 
distant,  and  was  standing  perfectly  still,  with 
his  lantern  held  over  his  head,  peering  so  di 
rectly  toward  Gallegher  that  the  boy  felt  that 
he  must  see  him.  Gallegher  stood  with  one 
foot  on  the  hub  of  the  wheel  and  with  the  other 
on  the  box  waiting  to  spring.  It  seemed  a 
minute  before  either  of  them  moved,  and  then 
the  officer  took  a  step  forward,  and  demanded 
sternly,  "Who  is  that?  What  are  you  doing 
there?'* 

There  was  no  time  for  parley  then.  Galle 
gher  felt  that  he  had  been  taken  in  the  act,  and 
that  his  only  chance  lay  in  open  flight.  He 
leaped  up  on  the  box,  pulling  out  the  whip  as 

39 


GALLEGHER 

he  did  so,  and  with  a  quick  sweep  lashed  the 
horse  across  the  head  and  back.  The  animal 
sprang  forward  with  a  snort,  narrowly  clear 
ing  the  gate-post,  and  plunged  off  into  the 
darkness. 

"Stop!"    cried  the  officer. 

So  many  of  Gallegher's  acquaintances  among 
the  'longshoremen  and  mill  hands  had  been 
challenged  in  so  much  the  same  manner  that 
Gallegher  knew  what  would  probably  follow 
if  the  challenge  was  disregarded.  So  he  slipped 
from  his  seat  to  the  footboard  below,  and  ducked 
his  head. 

The  three  reports  of  a  pistol,  which  rang  out 
briskly  from  behind  him,  proved  that  his  early 
training  had  given  him  a  valuable  fund  of  use 
ful  miscellaneous  knowledge. 

"Don't  you  be  scared,"  he  said,  reassuringly, 
to  the  horse;  "he's  firing  in  the  air." 

The  pistol-shots  were  answered  by  the  im 
patient  clangor  of  a  patrol-wagon's  gong,  and 
glancing  over  his  shoulder  Gallegher  saw  its 
red  and  green  lanterns  tossing  from  side  to  side 
and  looking  in  the  darkness  like  the  side-lights 
of  a  yacht  plunging  forward  in  a  storm. 

"I  hadn't  bargained  to  race  you  against  no 
patrol-wagons,"  said  Gallegher  to  his  animal; 
"but  if  they  want  a  race,  we'll  give  them  a 
tough  tussle  for  it,  won't  we?" 

40 


GALLEGHER 

Philadelphia,  lying  four  miles  to  the  south, 
sent  up  a  faint  yellow  glow  to  the  sky.  It 
seemed  very  far  away,  and  Gallegher's  brag 
gadocio  grew  cold  within  him  at  the  loneliness 
of  his  adventure  and  the  thought  of  the  long 
ride  before  him. 

It  was  still  bitterly  cold. 

The  rain  and  sleet  beat  through  his  clothes, 
and  struck  his  skin  with  a  sharp,  chilling  touch 
that  set  him  trembling. 

Even  the  thought  of  the  over-weighted  pa 
trol-wagon  probably  sticking  in  the  mud  some 
safe  distance  in  the  rear,  failed  to  cheer  him, 
and  the  excitement  that  had  so  far  made  him 
callous  to  the  cold  died  out  and  left  him  weaker 
and  nervous. 

But  his  horse  was  chilled  with  the  long  stand 
ing,  and  now  leaped  eagerly  forward,  only  too 
willing  to  warm  the  half-frozen  blood  in  its 
veins. 

"You're  a  good  beast,"  said  Gallegher,  plain 
tively.  "You've  got  more  nerve  than  me. 
Don't  you  go  back  on  me  now.  Mr.  Dwyer 
says  we've  got  to  beat  the  town."  Gallegher 
had  no  idea  what  time  it  was  as  he  rode  through 
the  night,  but  he  knew  he  would  be  able  to  find 
out  from  a  big  clock  over  a  manufactory  at  a 
point  nearly  three-quarters  of  the  distance  from 
Keppler's  to  the  goal. 

41 


GALLEGHER 

He  was  still  in  the  open  country  and  driving 
recklessly,  for  he  knew  the  best  part  of  his  ride 
must  be  made  outside  the  city  limits. 

He  raced  between  desolate-looking  corn-fields 
with  bare  stalks  and  patches  of  muddy  earth 
rising  above  the  thin  covering  of  snow;  truck 
farms  and  brick-yards  fell  behind  him  on  either 
side.  It  was  very  lonely  work,  and  once  or 
twice  the  dogs  ran  yelping  to  the  gates  and 
barked  after  him. 

Part  of  his  way  lay  parallel  with  the  railroad 
tracks,  and  he  drove  for  some  time  beside  long 
lines  of  freight  and  coal  cars  as  they  stood  rest 
ing  for  the  night.  The  fantastic  Queen  Anne 
suburban  stations  were  dark  and  deserted,  but 
in  one  or  two  of  the  block-towers  he  could  see 
the  operators  writing  at  their  desks,  and  the 
sight  in  some  way  comforted  him. 

Once  he  thought  of  stopping  to  get  out  the 
blanket  in  which  he  had  wrapped  himself  on 
the  first  trip,  but  he  feared  to  spare  the  time, 
and  drove  on  with  his  teeth  chattering  and  his 
shoulders  shaking  with  the  cold. 

He  welcomed  the  first  solitary  row  of  dark 
ened  houses  with  a  faint  cheer  of  recognition. 
The  scattered  lamp-posts  lightened  his  spirits, 
and  even  the  badly  paved  streets  rang  under 
the  beats  of  his  horse's  feet  like  music.  Great 
mills  and  manufactories,  with  only  a  night- 

42 


GALLEGHER 

watchman's  light  in  the  lowest  of  their  many 
stories,  began  to  take  the  place  of  the  gloomy 
farm-houses  and  gaunt  trees  that  had  startled 
him  with  their  grotesque  shapes.  He  had  been 
driving  nearly  an  hour,  he  calculated,  and  in 
that  time  the  rain  had  changed  to  a  wet  snow, 
that  fell  heavily  and  clung  to  whatever  it 
touched.  He  passed  block  after  block  of  trim 
workmen's  houses,  as  still  and  silent  as  the 
sleepers  within  them,  and  at  last  he  turned  the 
horse's  head  into  Broad  Street,  the  city's  great 
thoroughfare,  that  stretches  from  its  one  end 
to  the  other  and  cuts  it  evenly  in  two. 

He  was  driving  noiselessly  over  the  snow  and 
slush  in  the  street,  with  his  thoughts  bent  only 
on  the  clock-face  he  wished  so  much  to  see, 
when  a  hoarse  voice  challenged  him  from  the 
sidewalk.  "Hey,  you,  stop  there,  hold  up!" 
said  the  voice. 

Gallegher  turned  his  head,  and  though  he  saw 
that  the  voice  came  from  under  a  policeman's 
helmet,  his  only  answer  was  to  hit  his  horse 
sharply  over  the  head  with  his  whip  and  to 
urge  it  into  a  gallop. 

This,  on  his  part,  was  followed  by  a  sharp, 
shrill  whistle  from  the  policeman.  Another 
whistle  answered  it  from  a  street-corner  one 
block  ahead  of  him.  "Whoa,"  said  Gallegher, 
pulling  on  the  reins.  "  There's  one  too  many 

43 


GALLEGHER 

of  them,"  he  added,  in  apologetic  explanation. 
The  horse  stopped,  and  stood,  breathing  heav 
ily,  with  great  clouds  of  steam  rising  from  its 
flanks. 

"Why  in  hell  didn't  you  stop  when  I  told  you 
to?"  demanded  the  voice,  now  close  at  the 
cab's  side. 

"I  didn't  hear  you,"  returned  Gallegher, 
sweetly.  "But  I  heard  you  whistle,  and  I 
heard  your  partner  whistle,  and  I  thought 
maybe  it  was  me  you  wanted  to  speak  to,  so 
I  just  stopped." 

"You  heard  me  well  enough.  Why  aren't 
your  lights  lit?"  demanded  the  voice. 

"Should  I  have  'em  lit?"  asked  Gallegher, 
bending  over  and  regarding  them  with  sudden 
interest. 

"You  know  you  should,  and  if  you  don't, 
you've  no  right  to  be  driving  that  cab.  I  don't 
believe  you're  the  regular  driver,  any\vay. 
Where'd  you  get  it?" 

"It  ain't  my  cab,  of  course,"  said  Gallegher, 
with  an  easy  laugh.  "It's  Luke  McGovern's. 
He  left  it  outside  Cronin's  while  he  went  in  to 
get  a  drink,  and  he  took  too  much,  and  me 
father  told  me  to  drive  it  round  to  the  stable 
for  him.  I'm  Cronin's  son.  McGovern  ain't 
in  no  condition  to  drive.  You  can  see  your 
self  how  he's  been  misusing  the  horse.  He  puts 

44 


GALLEGHER 

it  up  at  Bachman's  livery  stable,  and  I  was  just 
going  around  there  now/' 

Gallegher's  knowledge  of  the  local  celebrities 
of  the  district  confused  the  zealous  officer  of 
the  peace.  He  surveyed  the  boy  with  a  steady 
stare  that  would  have  distressed  a  less  skilful 
liar,  but  Gallegher  only  shrugged  his  shoulders 
slightly,  as  if  from  the  cold,  and  waited  with  ap 
parent  indifference  to  what  the  officer  would 
say  next. 

In  reality  his  heart  was  beating  heavily 
against  his  side,  and  he  felt  that  if  he  was  kept 
on  a  strain  much  longer  he  would  give  way  and 
break  down.  A  second  snow-covered  form 
emerged  suddenly  from  the  shadow  of  the 
houses. 

"What  is  it,  Reeder?"   it  asked. 

"Oh,  nothing  much,"  replied  the  first  officer. 
"This  kid  hadn't  any  lamps  lit,  so  I  called  to 
him  to  stop  and  he  didn't  do  it,  so  I  whistled  to 
you.  It's  all  right,  though.  He's  just  taking 
it  round  to  Bachman's.  Go  ahead,"  he  added, 
sulkily. 

"Get  up  !"  chirped  Gallegher.  "Good  night," 
he  added,  over  his  shoulder. 

Gallegher  gave  a  hysterical  little  gasp  of 
relief  as  he  trotted  away  from  the  two  police 
men,  and  poured  bitter  maledictions  on  their 
heads  for  two  meddling  fools  as  he  went. 

45 


GALLEGHER 

'  They  might  as  well  kill  a  man  as  scare  him 
to  death,"  he  said,  with  an  attempt  to  get  back 
to  his  customary  flippancy.  But  the  effort  was 
somewhat  pitiful,  and  he  felt  guiltily  conscious 
that  a  salt,  warm  tear  was  creeping  slowly  down 
his  face,  and  that  a  lump  that  would  not  keep 
down  was  rising  in  his  throat. 

'Tain't  no  fair  thing  for  the  whole  police 
force  to  keep  worrying  at  a  little  boy  like  me,'* 
he  said,  in  shame-faced  apology.  "I'm  not 
doing  nothing  wrong,  and  I'm  half  froze  to 
death,  and  yet  they  keep  a-nagging  at  me." 

It  was  so  cold  that  when  the  boy  stamped  his 
feet  against  the  footboard  to  keep  them  warm, 
sharp  pains  shot  up  through  his  body,  and 
when  he  beat  his  arms  about  his  shoulders,  as 
he  had  seen  real  cabmen  do,  the  blood  in  his 
finger-tips  tingled  so  acutely  that  he  cried  aloud 
with  the  pain. 

He  had  often  been  up  that  late  before,  but 
he  had  never  felt  so  sleepy.  It  was  as  if  some 
one  was  pressing  a  sponge  heavy  with  chloro 
form  near  his  face,  and  he  could  not  fight  off 
the  drowsiness  that  lay  hold  of  him. 

He  saw,  dimly  hanging  above  his  head,  a 
round  disk  of  light  that  seemed  like  a  great 
moon,  and  which  he  finally  guessed  to  be  the 
clock-face  for  which  he  had  been  on  the  look 
out.  He  had  passed  it  before  he  realized  this; 

46 


GALLEGHER 

but  the  fact  stirred  him  into  wakefulness  again, 
and  when  his  cab's  wheels  slipped  around  the 
City  Hall  corner,  he  remembered  to  look  up  at 
the  other  big  clock-face  that  keeps  awake  over 
the  railroad  station  and  measures  out  the  night. 

He  gave  a  gasp  of  consternation  when  he  saw 
that  it  was  half-past  two,  and  that  there  was 
but  ten  minutes  left  to  him.  This,  and  the 
many  electric  lights  and  the  sight  of  the  famil 
iar  pile  of  buildings,  startled  him  into  a  semi- 
consciousness  of  where  he  was  and  how  great 
was  the  necessity  for  haste. 

He  rose  in  his  seat  and  called  on  the  horse, 
and  urged  it  into  a  reckless  gallop  over  the  slip 
pery  asphalt.  He  considered  nothing  else  but 
speed,  and  looking  neither  to  the  left  nor  right 
dashed  off  down  Broad  Street  into  Chestnut, 
where  his  course  lay  straight  away  to  the  office, 
now  only  seven  blocks  distant. 

Gallegher  never  knew  how  it  began,  but  he 
was  suddenly  assaulted  by  shouts  on  either  side, 
his  horse  was  thrown  back  on  its  haunches,  and 
he  found  two  men  in  cabmen's  livery  hanging 
at  its  head,  and  patting  its  sides,  and  calling  it 
by  name.  And  the  other  cabmen  who  have 
their  stand  at  the  corner  were  swarming  about 
the  carriage,  all  of  them  talking  and  swearing 
at  once,  and  gesticulating  wildly  with  their 
whips. 

47 


GALLEGHER 

They  said  they  knew  the  cab  was  McGov- 
ern's,  and  they  wanted  to  know  where  he  was, 
and  why  he  wasn't  on  it;  they  wanted  to  know 
where  Gallegher  had  stolen  it,  and  why  he  had 
been  such  a  fool  as  to  drive  it  into  the  arms  of 
its  owner's  friends ;  they  said  that  it  was  about 
time  that  a  cab-driver  could  get  off  his  box  to 
take  a  drink  without  having  his  cab  run  away 
with,  and  some  of  them  called  loudly  for  a  po 
liceman  to  take  the  young  thief  in  charge. 

Gallegher  felt  as  if  he  had  been  suddenly 
dragged  into  consciousness  out  of  a  bad  dream, 
and  stood  for  a  second  lil^e  a  half-awakened 
somnambulist. 

They  had  stopped  the  cab  under  an  electric 
light,  and  its  glare  shone  coldly  down  upon  the 
trampled  snow  and  the  faces  of  the  men  around 
him. 

Gallegher  bent  forward,  and  lashed  savagely 
at  the  horse  with  his  whip. 

"Let  me  go,"  he  shouted,  as  he  tugged  im- 
potently  at  the  reins.  "Let  me  go,  I  tell  you. 
I  haven't  stole  no  cab,  and  you've  got  no  right 
to  stop  me.  I  only  want  to  take  it  to  the  Press 
office,"  he  begged.  "They'll  send  it  back  to 
you  all  right.  They'll  pay  you  for  the  trip. 
I'm  not  running  away  with  it.  The  driver's 
got  the  collar — he's  'rested — and  I'm  only 
a-going  to  the  Press  office.  Do  you  hear  me?" 


GALLEGHER 

he  cried,  his  voice  rising  and  breaking  in  a 
shriek  of  passion  and  disappointment.  "I  tell 
you  to  let  go  those  reins.  Let  me  go,  or  I'll 
kill  you.  Do  you  hear  me?  I'll  kill  you." 
And  leaning  forward,  the  boy  struck  savagely 
with  his  long  whip  at  the  faces  of  the  men 
about  the  horse's  head. 

Some  one  in  the  crowd  reached  up  and 
caught  him  by  the  ankles,  and  with  a  quick 
jerk  pulled  him  off  the  box,  and  threw  him  on 
to  the  street.  But  he  was  up  on  his  knees  in  a 
moment,  and  caught  at  the  man's  hand. 

"Don't  let  them  stop  me,  mister,"  he  cried 
"please  let  me  go.  I  didn't  steal  the  cab,  sir. 
S'help  me,  I  didn't.  I'm  telling  you  the  truth. 
Take  me  to  the  Press  office,  and  they'll  prove 
it  to  you.  They'll  pay  you  anything  you  ask 
'em.  It's  only  such  a  little  ways  now,  and  I've 
come  so  far,  sir.  Please  don't  let  them  stop 
me,"  he  sobbed,  clasping  the  man  about  the 
knees.  "For  Heaven's  sake,  mister,  let  me  go  !" 


The  managing  editor  of  the  Press  took  up 
the  india-rubber  speaking-tube  at  his  side,  and 
answered,  "Not  yet,"  to  an  inquiry  the  night 
editor  had  already  put  to  him  five  times  within 
the  last  twenty  minutes. 

Then  he  snapped  the  metal  top  of  the  tube 
49 


GALLEGHER 

impatiently,  and  went  up-stairs.  As  he  passed 
the  door  of  the  local  room,  he  noticed  that  the 
reporters  had  not  gone  home,  but  were  sitting 
about  on  the  tables  and  chairs,  waiting.  They 
looked  up  inquiringly  as  he  passed,  and  the  city 
editor  asked,  "Any  news  yet?"  and  the  man 
aging  editor  shook  his  head. 

The  compositors  were  standing  idle  in  the 
composing-room,  and  their  foreman  was  talk 
ing  with  the  night  editor. 

"Well,"  said  that  gentleman,  tentatively. 

"Well,"  returned  the  managing  editor,  "I 
don't  think  we  can  wait;  do  you?" 

"It's  a  half-hour  after  time  now,"  said  the 
night  editor,  "and  we'll  miss  the  suburban 
trains  if  we  hold  the  paper  back  any  longer. 
We  can't  afford  to  wait  for  a  purely  hypothet 
ical  story.  The  chances  are  all  against  the 
fight's  having  taken  place  or  this  Hade's  hav 
ing  been  arrested." 

"But  if  we're  beaten  on  it — "  suggested  the 
chief.  "But  I  don't  think  that  is  possible.  If 
there  were  any  story  to  print,  Dwyer  would 
have  had  it  here  before  now." 

The  managing  editor  looked  steadily  down  at 
the  floor. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  slowly,  "we  won't 
wait  any  longer.  Go  ahead,"  he  added,  turn 
ing  to  the  foreman  with  a  sigh  of  reluctance. 

50 


GALLEGHER 

The  foreman  whirled  himself  about,  and  began 
to  give  his  orders;  but  the  two  editors  still 
looked  at  each  other  doubtfully. 

As  they  stood  so,  there  came  a  sudden  shout 
and  the  sound  of  people  running  to  and  fro  in 
the  reportorial  rooms  below.  There  was  the 
tramp  of  many  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  and 
above  the  confusion  they  heard  the  voice  of  the 
city  editor  telling  some  one  to  "run  to  Mad- 
den's  and  get  some  brandy,  quick." 

No  one  in  the  composing-room  said  any 
thing;  but  those  compositors  who  had  started 
to  go  home  began  slipping  off  their  overcoats, 
and  every  one  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
door. 

It  was  kicked  open  from  the  outside,  and  in 
the  doorway  stood  a  cab-driver  and  the  city 
editor,  supporting  between  them  a  pitiful  little 
figure  of  a  boy,  wet  and  miserable,  and  with 
the  snow  melting  on  his  clothes  and  running  in 
little  pools  to  the  floor.  "Why,  it's  Gallegher," 
said  the  night  editor,  in  a  tone  of  the  keenest 
disappointment. 

Gallegher  shook  himself  free  from  his  sup 
porters,  and  took  an  unsteady  step  forward, 
his  fingers  fumbling  stiffly  with  the  buttons  of 
his  waistcoat. 

'Mr.   Dwyer,   sir,"   he   began   faintly,   with 
nis  eyes  fixed  fearfully  on  the  managing  editor, 

51 


GALLEGHER 

"h*,  got  arrested — and  I  couldn't  get  here  no 
sooner,  'cause  they  kept  a-stopping  me,  and 
they  took  me  cab  from  under  me — but—  '  he 
pulled  the  note-book  from  his  breast  and  held 
it  out  with  its  covers  damp  and  limp  from  the 
rain — '"but  we  got  Hade,  and  here's  Mr.  Dwyer's 
copy." 

And  then  he  asked,  with  a  queer  note  in  his 
voice,  partly  of  dread  and  partly  of  hope,  "Am 
I  in  time,  sir?" 

The  managing  editor  took  the  book,  and 
tossed  it  to  the  foreman,  who  ripped  out  its 
leaves  and  dealt  them  out  to  his  men  as  rapidly 
as  a  gambler  deals  out  cards. 

Then  the  managing  editor  stooped  and  picked 
Gallegher  up  in  his  arms,  and,  sitting  down, 
began  to  unlace  his  wet  and  muddy  shoes. 

Gallegher  made  a  faint  effort  to  resist  this 
degradation  of  the  managerial  dignity;  but  his 
protest  was  a  very  feeble  one,  and  his  head  fell 
back  heavily  on  the  managing  editor's  shoulder. 

To  Gallegher  the  incandescent  lights  began 
to  whirl  about  in  circles,  and  to  burn  in  dif 
ferent  colors;  the  faces  of  the  reporters  kneel 
ing  before  him  and  chafing  his  hands  and  feet 
grew  dim  and  unfamiliar,  and  the  roar  and  rum 
ble  of  the  great  presses  in  the  basement  sounded 
far  away,  like  the  murmur  of  the  sea. 

And  then  the  place  and  the  circumstances 

52 


GALLEGHER 

of  it  came  back  to  him  again  sharply  and  with 
sudden  vividness. 

Gallegher  looked  up,  with  a  faint  smile,  into 
the  managing  editor's  face.  "You  won't  turn 
me  off  for  running  away,  will  you?"  he  whis 
pered. 

The  managing  editor  did  not  answer  immedi 
ately.  His  head  was  bent,  and  he  was  think 
ing,  for  some  reason  or  other,  of  a  little  boy  of 
his  own,  at  home  in  bed.  Then  he  said  quietly, 
"Not  this  time,  Gallegher." 

Gallegher's  head  sank  back  comfortably  on 
the  older  man's  shoulder,  and  he  smiled  compre 
hensively  at  the  faces  of  the  young  men  crowded 
around  him.  "You  hadn't  ought  to,"  he  said, 
with  a  touch  of  his  old  impudence,  "  'cause — I 
beat  the  town." 


53 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 


I 


H.  R.  H.  THE  PRINCESS  ALINE  OF  HOHEN- 
WALD  came  into  the  life  of  Morton  Carlton — or 
"Morney"  Carlton,  as  men  called  him — of  New 
York  City,  when  that  young  gentleman's  affairs 
and  affections  were  best  suited  to  receive  her. 
Had  she  made  her  appearance  three  years 
sooner  or  three  years  later,  it  is  quite  probable 
that  she  would  have  passed  on  out  of  his  life 
with  no  more  recognition  from  him  than  would 
have  been  expressed  in  a  look  of  admiring  curi 
osity. 

But  coming  when  she  did,  when  his  time  and 
heart  were  both  unoccupied,  she  had  an  influ 
ence  upon  young  Mr.  Carlton  which  led  him 
into  doing  several  wise  and  many  foolish  things, 
and  which  remained  with  him  always.  Carlton 
had  reached  a  point  in  his  life,  and  very  early 
in  his  life,  when  he  could  afford  to  sit  at  ease 
and  look  back  with  modest  satisfaction  to  what 
he  had  forced  himself  to  do,  and  forward  with 
pleasurable  anticipations  to  whatsoever  he  might 
choose  to  do  in  the  future.  The  world  had  ap- 

57 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

predated  what  he  had  done,  and  had  put  much 
to  his  credit,  and  he  was  prepared  to  draw 
upon  this  grandly. 

At  the  age  of  twenty  he  had  found  himself 
his  own  master,  with  excellent  family  connec 
tions,  but  with  no  family,  his  only  relative 
being  a  bachelor  uncle,  who  looked  at  life  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  Union  Club's  windows, 
and  who  objected  to  his  nephew's  leaving  Har 
vard  to  take  up  the  study  of  art  in  Paris.  In 
that  city  (where  at  Julian's  he  was  nicknamed 
the  Junior  Carlton,  for  the  obvious  reason  that 
he  was  the  older  of  the  two  Carltons  in  the  class, 
and  because  he  was  well  dressed)  he  had  shown 
himself  a  harder  worker  than  others  who  were 
less  careful  of  their  appearance  and  of  their 
manners.  His  work,  of  which  he  did  not  talk, 
and  his  ambitions,  of  which  he  also  did  not 
talk,  bore  fruit  early,  and  at  twenty-six  he  had 
become  a  portrait-painter  of  international  repu 
tation.  Then  the  French  government  pur 
chased  one  of  his  paintings  at  an  absurdly 
small  figure,  and  placed  it  in  the  Luxembourg, 
from  whence  it  would  in  time  depart  to  be 
buried  in  the  hall  of  some  provincial  city;  and 
American  millionaires  and  English  Lord  May 
ors,  members  of  Parliament  and  members  of 
the  Institute,  masters  of  hounds  in  pink  coats 
and  ambassadors  in  gold  lace,  and  beautiful 

58 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

women  of  all  nationalities  and  conditions  sat 
before  his  easel.  And  so  when  he  returned  to 
New  York  he  was  welcomed  with  an  enthusiasm 
which  showed  that  his  countrymen  had  feared 
that  the  artistic  atmosphere  of  the  Old  World 
had  stolen  him  from  them  forever.  He  was 
particularly  silent,  even  at  this  date,  about 
his  work,  and  listened  to  what  others  had  to 
say  of  it  with  much  awe,  not  unmixed  with 
some  amusement,  that  it  should  be  he  who  was 
capable  of  producing  anything  worthy  of  such 
praise.  We  have  been  told  what  the  mother 
duck  felt  when  her  ugly  duckling  turned  into  a 
swan,  but  we  have  never  considered  how  much 
the  ugly  duckling  must  have  marvelled  also. 

"Carlton  is  probably  the  only  living  artist," 
a  brother  artist  had  said  of  him,  "who  fails  to 
appreciate  how  great  his  work  is."  And  on  this 
being  repeated  to  Carlton  by  a  good-natured 
friend,  he  had  replied  cheerfully,  "Well,  I'm 
sorry,  but  it  is  certainly  better  to  be  the  only 
one  who  doesn't  appreciate  it  than  to  be  the 
only  one  who  does." 

He  had  never  understood  why  such  a  respon 
sibility  had  been  intrusted  to  him.  It  was,  as 
he  expressed  it,  not  at  all  in  his  line,  and  young 
girls  who  sought  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  master 
found  him  making  love  to  them  in  the  most 
charming  manner  in  the  world,  as  though  he 

59 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

were  not  entitled  to  all  the  rapturous  admira 
tion  of  their  very  young  hearts,  but  had  to  sue 
for  it  like  any  ordinary  mortal.  Carlton  al 
ways  felt  as  though  some  day  some  one  would 
surely  come  along  and  say:  "Look  here,  young 
man,  this  talent  doesn't  belong  to  you;  it's 
mine.  What  do  you  mean  by  pretending  that 
such  an  idle,  good-natured  youth  as  yourself  is 
entitled  to  such  a  gift  of  genius?"  He  felt  that 
he  was  keeping  it  in  trust,  as  it  were;  that  it 
had  been  changed  at  birth,  and  that  the  proper 
guardian  would  eventually  relieve  him  of  his 
treasure. 

Personally,  Carlton  was  of  the  opinion  that 
he  should  have  been  born  in  the  active  days  of 
knights-errant — to  have  had  nothing  more  seri 
ous  to  do  than  to  ride  abroad  with  a  blue  rib 
bon  fastened  to  the  point  of  his  lance,  and  with 
the  spirit  to  unhorse  any  one  who  objected  to 
its  color,  or  to  the  claims  of  superiority  of  the 
noble  lady  who  had  tied  it  there.  There  was 
not,  in  his  opinion,  at  the  present  day  any  suf 
ficiently  pronounced  method  of  declaring  ad 
miration  for  the  many  lovely  women  this  world 
contained.  A  proposal  of  marriage  he  consid 
ered  to  be  a  mean  and  clumsy  substitute  for 
the  older  way,  and  was  uncomplimentary  to  the 
many  other  women  left  unasked,  and  marriage 
itself  required  much  more  constancy  than  he 

60 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

could  give.  He  had  a  most  romantic  and  old- 
fashioned  ideal  of  women  as  a  class,  and  from 
the  age  of  fourteen  had  been  a  devotee  of  hun 
dreds  of  them  as  individuals;  and  though  in 
that  time  his  ideal  had  received  several  severe 
shocks,  he  still  believed  that  the  "not  impossi 
ble  she"  existed  somewhere,  and  his  conscien 
tious  efforts  to  find  out  whether  every  woman 
he  met  might  not  be  that  one  had  led  him  not 
unnaturally  into  many  difficulties. 

"The  trouble  with  me  is,"  he  said,  "that  I 
care  too  much  to  make  Platonic  friendship  pos 
sible,  and  don't  care  enough  to  marry  any  par 
ticular  woman — that  is,  of  course,  supposing 
that  any  particular  one  would  be  so  little  par 
ticular  as  to  be  willing  to  marry  me.  How  em 
barrassing  it  would  be,  now,"  he  argued,  "if 
when  you  were  turning  away  from  the  chancel 
after  the  ceremony  you  should  look  at  one  of 
the  bridesmaids  and  see  the  woman  whom  you 
y-salfy  should  have  married !  How  distressing 
tiat  would  be !  You  couldn't  very  well  stop 
and  say:  'I  am  very  sorry,  my  dear,  but  it 
Seems  I  have  made  a  mistake.  That  young 
woman  on  the  right  has  a  most  interesting  and 
beautiful  face.  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  she 
is  the  one.'  It  would  be  too  late  then;  while 
now,  in  my  free  state,  I  can  continue  my  search 
without  any  sense  of  responsibility." 

61 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

"Why"  —he  would  exclaim—  "I  have  walked 
miles  to  get  a  glimpse  of  a  beautiful  woman  in 
a  suburban  window,  and  time  and  time  again 
when  I  have  seen  a  face  in  a  passing  brougham 
I  have  pursued  it  in  a  hansom,  and  learned 
where  the  owner  of  the  face  lived,  and  spent 
weeks  in  finding  some  one  to  present  me,  only 
to  discover  that  she  was  self-conscious  or  unin 
teresting  or  engaged.  Still  I  had  assured  my 
self  that  she  was  not  the  one.  I  am  very  con 
scientious,  and  I  consider  that  it  is  my  duty  to 
go  so  far  with  every  woman  I  meet  as  to  be 
able  to  learn  whether  she  is  or  is  not  the  one, 
and  the  sad  result  is  that  I  am  like  a  man 
who  follows  the  hounds  but  is  never  in  at  the 
death." 

"Well,"  some  married  woman  would  say, 
grimly,  "I  hope  you  will  get  your  deserts  some 
day;  and  you  will,  too.  Some  day  some  girl 
will  make  you  suffer  for  this." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  Carlton  would  answer, 
meekly.  "Lots  of  women  have  made  me  suffer, 
if  that's  what  you  think  I  need." 

"Some  day,"  the  married  woman  would 
prophesy,  "you  will  care  for  a  woman  so  much 
that  you  will  have  no  eyes  for  any  one  else. 
That's  the  way  it  is  when  one  is  married." 

"Well,  when  that's  the  way  it  is  with  me," 
Carlton  would  reply,  "I  certainly  hope  to  get 

62 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

married;  but  until  it  is,  I  think  it  is  safe  for  all 
concerned  that  I  should  not." 

Then  Carlton  would  go  to  the  club  and  com 
plain  bitterly  to  one  of  his  friends. 

"How  unfair  married  women  are!"  he  would 
say.  "The  idea  of  thinking  a  man  could  have 
no  eyes  but  for  one  woman !  Suppose  I  had 
never  heard  a  note  of  music  until  I  was  twenty- 
five  years  of  age,  and  was  then  given  my  hear 
ing.  Do  you  suppose  my  pleasure  in  music 
would  make  me  lose  my  pleasure  in  every 
thing  else?  Suppose  I  met  and  married  a  girl 
at  twenty-five.  Is  that  going  to  make  me  for 
get  all  the  women  I  knew  before  I  met  her?  I 
think  not.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  really  deserve 
a  great  deal  of  credit  for  remaining  single,  for 
I  am  naturally  very  affectionate;  but  when 
I  see  what  poor  husbands  my  friends  make,  I 
prefer  to  stay  as  I  am  until  I  am  sure  that  I 
will  make  a  better  one.  It  is  only  fair  to  the 
woman." 

Carlton  was  sitting  in  the  club  alone.  He 
had  that  sense  of  superiority  over  his  fellows 
and  of  irresponsibility  to  the  world  about  him 
that  comes  to  a  man  when  he  knows  that  his 
trunks  are  being  packed  and  that  his  state-room 
is  engaged.  He  was  leaving  New  York  long 
before  most  of  his  friends  could  get  away.  He 
did  not  know  just  where  he  was  going,  and  pre- 

63 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

ferred  not  to  know.  He  wished  to  have  a  com 
plete  holiday,  and  to  see  Europe  as  an  idle 
tourist,  and  not  as  an  artist  with  an  eye  to  his 
own  improvement.  He  had  plenty  of  time  and 
money;  he  was  sure  to  run  across  friends  in  the 
big  cities,  and  acquaintances  he  could  make  or 
not,  as  he  pleased,  en  route.  He  was  not  sorry 
to  go.  His  going  would  serve  to  put  an  end  to 
what  gossip  there  might  be  of  his  engagement 
to  numerous  young  women  whose  admiration 
for  him  as  an  artist,  he  was  beginning  to  fear, 
had  taken  on  a  more  personal  tinge.  "I  wish," 
he  said,  gloomily,  "I  didn't  like  people  so  well. 
It  seems  to  cause  them  and  me  such  a  lot  of 
trouble." 

He  sighed,  and  stretched  out  his  hand  for  a 
copy  of  one  of  the  English  illustrated  papers. 
It  had  a  fresher  interest  to  him  because  the 
next  number  of  it  that  he  would  see  would  be  in 
the  city  in  which  it  was  printed.  The  paper 
in  his  hands  was  the  St.  James  Budget,  and  it 
contained  much  fashionable  intelligence  con 
cerning  the  preparations  for  a  royal  wedding 
which  was  soon  to  take  place  between  members 
of  two  of  the  reigning  families  of  Europe. 
There  was  on  one  page  a  half-tone  reproduc 
tion  of  a  photograph,  which  showed  a  group  of 
young  people  belonging  to  several  of  these 
reigning  families,  with  their  names  and  titles 

64 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

printed  above  and  below  the  picture.  They 
were  princesses,  archdukes,  or  grand  dukes, 
and  they  were  dressed  like  young  English  men 
and  women,  and  with  no  sign  about  them  of 
their  possible  military  or  social  rank. 

One  of  the  young  princesses  in  the  photo 
graph  was  looking  out  of  it  and  smiling  in  a 
tolerant,  amused  way,  as  though  she  had 
thought  of  something  which  she  could  not  wait 
to  enjoy  until  after  the  picture  was  taken. 
She  was  not  posing  consciously,  as  were  some 
of  the  others,  but  was  sitting  in  a  natural  atti 
tude,  with  one  arm  over  the  back  of  her  chair, 
and  with  her  hands  clasped  before  her.  Her 
face  was  full  of  a  fine  intelligence  and  humor, 
and  though  one  of  the  other  princesses  in  the 
group  was  far  more  beautiful,  this  particular 
one  had  a  much  more  high-bred  air,  and  there 
was  something  of  a  challenge  in  her  smile  that 
made  any  one  who  looked  at  the  picture  smile 
also.  Carlton  studied  the  face  for  some  time, 
and  mentally  approved  of  its  beauty;  the 
others  seemed  in  comparison  wooden  and  un- 
individual,  but  this  one  looked  like  a  person 
he  might  have  known,  and  whom  he  would 
certainly  have  liked.  He  turned  the  page  and 
surveyed  the  features  of  the  Oxford  crew  with 
lesser  interest,  and  then  turned  the  page  again 
and  gazed  critically  and  severely  at  the  face 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

of  the  princess  with  the  high-bred  smile.  He 
had  hoped  that  he  would  find  it  less  interest 
ing  at  a  second  glance,  but  it  did  not  prove  to 
be  so. 

'The  Princess  Aline  of  Hohenwald,' '  he 
read.  "She's  probably  engaged  to  one  of  those 
Johnnies  beside  her,  and  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Hohenwald  behind  her  must  be  her  brother." 
He  put  the  paper  down  and  went  in  to  lunch 
eon,  and  diverted  himself  by  mixing  a  salad 
dressing;  but  after  a  few  moments  he  stopped 
in  the  midst  of  this  employment,  and  told 
the  waiter,  with  some  unnecessary  sharpness, 
to  bring  him  the  last  copy  of  the  St.  James 
Budget. 

"Confound  it!"   he  added,  to  himself. 

He  opened  the  paper  with  a  touch  of  impa 
tience  and  gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  the  face 
of  the  Princess  Aline,  who  continued  to  return 
his  look  with  the  same  smile  of  amused  toler 
ance.  Carlton  noted  every  detail  of  her  tailor- 
made  gown,  of  her  high  mannish  collar,  of  her 
tie,  and  even  the  rings  on  her  hand.  There 
was  nothing  about  her  of  which  he  could  fairly 
disapprove.  He  wondered  why  it  was  that  she 
could  not  have  been  born  an  approachable  New 
York  girl  instead  of  a  princess  of  a  little  Ger 
man  duchy,  hedged  in  throughout  her  single 
life,  and  to  be  traded  off  eventually  in  mar- 

66 


The  Princess  Aline  of  Hohemvald. 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

riage  with  as  much  consideration  as  though  she 
were  a  princess  of  a  real  kingdom. 

"She  looks  jolly,  too,"  he  mused,  in  an  in 
jured  tone;  "and  so  very  clever;  and  of  course 
she  has  a  beautiful  complexion.  All  those 
German  girls  have.  Your  Royal  Highness  is 
more  than  pretty,"  he  said,  bowing  his  head 
gravely.  "You  look  as  a  princess  should  look. 
I  am  sure  it  was  one  of  your  ancestors  who  dis 
covered  the  dried  pea  under  a  dozen  mattresses." 
He  closed  the  paper,  and  sat  for  a  moment  with 
a  perplexed  smile  of  consideration.  "Waiter," 
he  exclaimed,  suddenly,  "send  a  messenger-boy 
to  Brentano's  for  a  copy  of  the  St.  James  Budget, 
and  bring  me  the  Almanach  de  Gotha  from 
the  library.  It  is  a  little  fat  red  book  on  the 
table  near  the  window."  Then  Carlton  opened 
the  paper  again  and  propped  it  up  against  a 
carafe,  and  continued  his  critical  survey  of  the 
Princess  Aline.  He  seized  the  Almanach,  when 
it  came,  with  some  eagerness. 

"Hohenwald  (Maison  de  Grasse),"  he  read, 
and  in  small  type  below  it: 

"i.  Ligne  cadette  (regnante)  grand-ducale:  Hohen 
wald  et  de  Grasse. 

"Guillaume  -  Albert  -  Frederick  -  Charles  -  Louis, 
Grand-Due  de  Hohenwald  et  de  Grasse,  etc.,  etc.,  etc." 

'That's   the   brother,    right    enough,"    mut 
tered  Carlton. 

67 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

And  under  the  heading  "Soeurs"  he  read: 

"4.  Psse  Aline. — Victoria-Beatrix-Louise-Helene/  Alt. 
Gr.-Duc.  Nee  a  Grasse,  Juin,  1872." 

"Twenty-two  years  old,"  exclaimed  Carl- 
ton.  "What  a  perfect  age!  I  could  not  have 
invented  a  better  one."  He  looked  from  the 
book  to  the  face  before  him.  "Now,  my  dear 
young  lady,"  he  said,  "I  know  all  about  you. 
You  live  at  Grasse,  and  you  are  connected,  to 
judge  by  your  names,  with  all  the  English  roy 
alties;  and  very  pretty  names  they  are,  too— 
Aline,  Helene,  Victoria,  Beatrix.  You  must 
be  much  more  English  than  you  are  German; 
and  I  suppose  you  live  in  a  little  old  castle,  and 
your  brother  has  a  standing  army  of  twelve 
men,  and  some  day  you  are  to  marry  a  Rus 
sian  Grand  Duke,  or  whoever  your  brother's 
Prime  Minister — if  he  has  a  Prime  Minister — 
decides  is  best  for  the  politics  of  your  little  toy 
kingdom.  Ah !  to  think,"  exclaimed  Carlton, 
softly,  "that  such  a  lovely  and  glorious  crea 
ture  as  that  should  be  sacrificed  for  so  insig 
nificant  a  thing  as  the  peace  of  Europe  when 
she  might  make  some  young  man  happy?" 

He  carried  a  copy  of  the  paper  to  his  room, 
and  cut  the  picture  of  the  group  out  of  the  page 
and  pasted  it  carefully  on  a  stiff  piece  of  card 
board.  Then  he  placed  it  on  his  dressing-table, 

68 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

in  front  of  a  photograph  of  a  young  woman  in 
a  large  silver  frame — which  was  a  sign,  had  the 
young  woman  but  known  it,  that  her  reign  for 
the  time  being  was  over. 

Nolan,  the  young  Irishman  who  "did  for" 
Carlton,  knew  better  than  to  move  it  when  he 
found  it  there.  He  had  learned  to  study  his 
master  since  he  had  joined  him  in  London,  and 
understood  that  one  photograph  in  the  silver 
frame  was  entitled  to  more  consideration  than 
three  others  on  the  writing-desk  or  half  a  dozen 
on  the  mantel-piece.  Nolan  had  seen  them 
come  and  go;  he  had  watched  them  rise  and 
fall;  he  had  carried  notes  to  them,  and  books 
and  flowers;  and  had  helped  to  depose  them 
from  the  silver  frame  and  move  them  on  by 
degrees  down  the  line,  until  they  went  inglori- 
ously  into  the  big  brass  bowl  on  the  side  table. 
Nolan  approved  highly  of  this  last  choice.  He 
did  not  know  which  one  of  the  three  in  the 
group  it  might  be;  but  they  were  all  pretty, 
and  their  social  standing  was  certainly  distin 
guished. 

Guido,  the  Italian  model  who  ruled  over  the 
studio,  and  Nolan  were  busily  packing  when 
Carlton  entered.  He  always  said  that  Guido 
represented  him  in  his  professional  and  Nolan 
in  his  social  capacity.  Guido  cleaned  the 
brushes  and  purchased  the  artists'  materials; 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

Nolan  cleaned  his  riding-boots  and  bought  his 
theatre  and  railroad  tickets. 

"Guido,"  said  Carlton,  "there  are  two 
sketches  I  made  in  Germany  last  year,  one  of 
the  Prime  Minister,  and  one  of  Ludvvig  the 
actor;  get  them  out  for  me,  will  you,  and  pack 
them  for  shipping.  Nolan,"  he  went  on,  "here 
is  a  telegram  to  send." 

Nolan  would  not  have  read  a  letter,  but  he 
looked  upon  telegrams  as  public  documents, 
the  reading  of  them  as  part  of  his  perquisites. 
This  one  was  addressed  to  Oscar  Von  Holtz, 
First  Secretary,  German  Embassy,  Washing 
ton,  D.  G,  and  the  message  read: 

Please  telegraph  me  full  title  and  address  Princess 
Aline  of  Hohenwald.  Where  would  a  letter  reach  her? 

MORTON  CARLTON. 

The  next  morning  Nolan  carried  to  the  ex 
press  office  a  box  containing  two  oil-paintings 
on  small  canvases.  They  were  addressed  to  the 
man  in  London  who  attended  to  the  shipping  and 
forwarding  of  Carlton's  pictures  in  that  town. 

There  was  a  tremendous  crowd  on  the  New 
"York.  She  sailed  at  the  obliging  hour  of  eleven 
in  the  morning,  and  many  people,  in  conse 
quence,  whose  affection  \vould  not  have  stood 
in  the  way  of  their  breakfast,  made  it  a  point 

70 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

to  appear  and  to  say  good-by.  Carlton,  for  his 
part,  did  not  notice  them;  he  knew  by  experi 
ence  that  the  attractive-looking  people  always 
leave  a  steamer  when  the  whistle  blows,  and 
that  the  next  most  attractive-looking,  who  re 
main  on  board,  are  ill  all  the  way  over.  A  man 
that  he  knew  seized  him  by  the  arm  as  he  was 
entering  his  cabin,  and  asked  if  he  were  cross 
ing  or  just  seeing  people  off. 

"Well,  then,  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  Miss 
Morris  and  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Downs;  they  are 
going  over,  and  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would 
be  nice  to  them.  But  you  know  her,  I  guess?" 
he  asked,  over  his  shoulder,  as  Carlton  pushed 
his  way  after  him  down  the  deck. 

"  I  know  who  she  is,"  he  said. 

Miss  Edith  Morris  was  surrounded  by  a 
treble  circle  of  admiring  friends,  and  seemed 
to  be  holding  her  own.  They  all  stopped  when 
Carlton  came  up,  and  looked  at  him  rather 
closely,  and  those  whom  he  knew  seemed  to 
mark  the  fact  by  a  particularly  hearty  greeting. 
The  man  who  had  brought  him  up  acted  as 
though  he  had  successfully  accomplished  a 
somewhat  difficult  and  creditable  feat.  Carl- 
ton  bowed  himself  away,  leaving  Miss  Morris 
to  her  friends,  and  saying  that  she  would  prob 
ably  have  to  see  him  later,  whether  she  wished 
it  or  not.  He  then  went  to  meet  the  aunt,  who 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

received  him  kindly,  for  there  were  very  few 
people  on  the  passenger  list,  and  she  was  glad 
they  were  to  have  his  company.  Before  he 
left  she  introduced  him  to  a  young  man  named 
Abbey,  who  was  hovering  around  her  most 
anxiously,  and  whose  interest,  she  seemed  to 
think  it  necessary  to  explain,  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  he  was  engaged  to  Miss  Morris.  Mr. 
Abbey  left  the  steamer  when  the  whistle  blew, 
and  Carlton  looked  after  him  gratefully.  He 
always  enjoyed  meeting  attractive  girls  who 
were  engaged,  as  it  left  him  no  choice  in  the 
matter,  and  excused  him  from  finding  out 
whether  or  not  that  particular  young  woman 
was  the  one. 

Mrs.  Downs  and  her  niece  proved  to  be  ex 
perienced  sailors,  and  faced  the  heavy  sea  that 
met  the  New  York  outside  of  Sandy  Hook  with 
unconcern.  Carlton  joined  them,  and  they 
stood  together  leaning  with  their  backs  to  the 
rail,  and  trying  to  fit  the  people  who  flitted  past 
them  to  the  names  on  the  passenger  list. 

"The  young  lady  in  the  sailor  suit,"  said 
Miss  Morris,  gazing  at  the  top  of  the  smoke 
stack,  "is  Miss  Kitty  Flood,  of  Grand  Rapids. 
This  is  her  first  voyage,  and  she  thinks  a  steamer 
is  something  like  a  yacht,  and  dresses  for  the 
part  accordingly.  She  does  not  know  that  it 
is  merely  a  moving  hotel." 

72 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Carlton,  "to  judge  from 
her  agitation,  that  hers  is  going  to  be  what  the 
professionals  call  a  *  dressing-room*  part.  Why 
is  it,"  he  asked,  "that  the  girls  on  a  steamer 
who  wear  gold  anchors  and  the  men  in  yacht 
ing-caps  are  always  the  first  to  disappear? 
That  man  with  the  sombrero,"  he  went  on,  "is 
James  M.  Pollock,  United  States  Consul  to 
Mauritius;  he  is  going  out  to  his  post.  I  know 
he  is  the  consul,  because  he  comes  from  Fort 
Worth,  Texas,  and  is  therefore  admirably  fitted 
to  speak  either  French  or  the  native  language 
of  the  island." 

"Oh,  we  don't  send  consuls  to  Mauritius," 
laughed  Miss  Morris.  "Mauritius  is  one  of 
those  places  from  which  you  buy  stamps,  but 
no  one  really  lives  or  goes  there." 

"Where  are  you  going,  may  I  ask?"  in 
quired  Carlton. 

Miss  Morris  said  that  they  were  making  their 
way  to  Constantinople  and  Athens,  and  then 
to  Rome;  that  as  they  had  not  had  the  time 
to  take  the  southern  route,  they  purposed 
to  journey  across  the  Continent  direct  from 
Paris  to  the  Turkish  capital  by  the  Orient  Ex 
press. 

"We  shall  be  a  few  days  in  London,  and  in 
Paris  only  long  enough  for  some  clothes,"  she 
replied. 

73 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

"The  trousseau,"  thought  Carlton.  "Weeks 
is  what  she  should  have  said." 

The  three  sat  together  at  the  captain's  table, 
and  as  the  sea  continued  rough,  saw  little  of 
either  the  captain  or  his  other  guests,  and  were 
thrown  much  upon  the  society  of  each  other. 
They  had  innumerable  friends  and  interests  in 
common;  and  Mrs.  Downs,  who  had  been 
everywhere,  and  for  long  seasons  at  a  time, 
proved  as  alive  as  her  niece,  and  Carlton  con 
ceived  a  great  liking  for  her.  She  seemed  to 
be  just  and  kindly  minded,  and,  owing  to  her 
age,  to  combine  the  wider  judgment  of  a  man 
with  the  sympathetic  interest  of  a  woman. 
Sometimes  they  sat  together  in  a  row  and  read, 
and  gossiped  over  what  they  read,  or  struggled 
up  the  deck  as  it  rose  and  fell  and  buffeted  with 
the  wind;  and  later  they  gathered  in  a  corner 
of  the  saloon  and  ate  late  suppers  of  Carlton's 
devising,  or  drank  tea  in  the  captain's  cabin, 
which  he  had  thrown  open  to  them.  They  had 
started  knowing  much  about  one  another,  and 
this  and  the  necessary  proximity  of  the  ship 
hastened  their  acquaintance. 

The  sea  grew  calmer  the  third  day  out,  and 
the  sun  came  forth  and  showed  the  decks  as 
clean  as  bread-boards.  Miss  Morris  and  Carl- 
ton  seated  themselves  on  the  huge  iron  riding- 
bits  in  the  bow,  and  with  their  elbows  on  the 

74 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

rail  looked  down  at  the  whirling  blue  water,  and 
rejoiced  silently  in  the  steady  rush  of  the  great 
vessel,  and  in  the  uncertain  warmth  of  the 
March  sun.  Carlton  was  sitting  to  leeward  of 
Miss  Morris,  with  a  pipe  between  his  teeth. 
He  was  warm,  and  at  peace  with  the  world. 
He  had  found  his  new  acquaintance  more  than 
entertaining.  She  was  even  friendly,  and 
treated  him  as  though  he  were  much  her  junior, 
as  is  the  habit  of  young  women  lately  married  or 
who  are  about  to  be  married.  Carlton  did  not 
resent  it;  on  the  contrary,  it  made  him  more 
at  his  ease  with  her,  and  as  she  herself  chose 
to  treat  him  as  a  youth,  he  permitted  himself 
to  be  as  foolish  as  he  pleased. 

"I  don't  know  why  it  is,"  he  complained,  peer 
ing  over  the  rail,  "but  whenever  I  look  over 
the  side  to  watch  the  waves  a  man  in  a  greasy 
cap  always  sticks  his  head  out  of  a  hole  below 
me  and  scatters  a  barrelful  of  ashes  or  potato 
peelings  all  over  the  ocean.  It  spoils  the  effect 
for  one.  Next  time  he  does  it  I  am  going  to 
knock  out  the  ashes  of  my  pipe  on  the  back  of 
his  neck."  Miss  Morris  did  not  consider  this 
worthy  of  comment,  and  there  was  a  long,  lazy 
pause. 

:<You  haven't  told  us  where  you  go  after 
London,"  she  said;  and  then,  without  waiting 
for  him  to  reply,  she  asked,  "Is  it  your  profes- 

75 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

sional  or  your  social  side  that  you  are  treating 
to  a  trip  this  time?" 

"Who  told  you  that?"  asked  Carlton,  smiling. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Some  man.  He  said 
you  were  a  Jekyll  and  Hyde.  Which  is 
Jekyll?  You  see,  I  only  know  your  professional 
side." 

"You  must  try  to  find  out  for  yourself  by 
deduction,"  he  said,  "as  you  picked  out  the 
other  passengers.  I  am  going  to  Grasse,"  he 
continued.  "It's  the  capital  of  Hohenwald. 
Do  you  know  it?" 

:<Yes,"  she  said;  "we  were  there  once  for  a 
few  days.  We  went  to  see  the  pictures.  I  sup 
pose  you  know  that  the  old  Duke,  the  father  of 
the  present  one,  ruined  himself  almost  by  buy 
ing  pictures  for  the  Grasse  gallery.  We  were 
there  at  a  bad  time,  though,  when  the  palace 
was  closed  to  visitors,  and  the  gallery  too.  I 
suppose  that  is  what  is  taking  you  there?" 

"No,"  Carlton  said,  shaking  his  head.  "No, 
it  is  not  the  pictures.  I  am  going  to  Grasse," 
he  said,  gravely,  "to  see  the  young  woman  with 
whom  I  am  in  love." 

Miss  Morris  looked  up  in  some  surprise,  and 
smiled  consciously,  with  a  natural  feminine  in 
terest  in  an  affair  of  love,  and  one  which  was  a 
secret  as  well. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "I  beg  your  pardon;  we — I 
had  not  heard  of  it." 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

"No,  it  is  not  a  thing  one  could  announce 
exactly,"  said  Carl  ton;  "it  is  rather  in  an  em 
bryo  state  as  yet — in  fact,  I  have  not  met  the 
young  lady  so  far,  but  I  mean  to  meet  her. 
That's  why  I  am  going  abroad." 

Miss  Morris  looked  at  him  sharply  to  see  if 
he  were  smiling,  but  he  was,  on  the  contrary, 
gazing  sentimentally  at  the  horizon-line,  and 
puffing  meditatively  on  his  pipe.  He  was  ap 
parently  in  earnest,  and  waiting  for  her  to  make 
some  comment. 

"How  very  interesting!"  was  all  she  could 
think  to  say. 

'Yes,  when  you  know  the  details,  it  is,— 
very  interesting,"  he  answered.  "She  is  the 
Princess  Aline  of  Hohenwald,"  he  explained, 
bowing  his  head  as  though  he  were  making  the 
two  young  ladies  known  to  one  another.  "She 
has  several  other  names,  six  in  all,  and  her  age 
is  twenty-two.  That  is  all  I  know  about  her. 
I  saw  her  picture  in  an  illustrated  paper  just 
before  I  sailed,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would 
meet  her,  and  here  I  am.  If  she  is  not  in  Grasse, 
I  intend  to  follow  her  to  wherever  she  may  be." 
He  waved  his  pipe  at  the  ocean  before  him,  and 
recited,  with  mock  seriousness: 

4  'Across  the  hills  and  far  away, 

Beyond  their  utmost  purple  rim, 
And  deep  into  the  dying  day, 

The  happy  Princess  followed  him.' 

77 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

"Only  in  this  case,  you  see,"  said  Carlton, 
"I  am  following  the  happy  Princess.'* 

"No;  but  seriously,  though,"  said  Miss  Mor 
ris,  "what  is  it  you  mean?  Are  you  going  to 
paint  her  portrait?" 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  exclaimed  Carl- 
ton.  "I  don't  know  but  what  your  idea  is  a 
good  one.  Miss  Morris,  that's  a  great  idea." 
He  shook  his  head  approvingly.  "I  did  not  do 
wrong  to  confide  in  you,"  he  said.  "It  was 
perhaps  taking  a  liberty;  but  as  you  have  not 
considered  it  as  such,  I  am  glad  I  spoke." 

"But  you  don't  really  mean  to  tell  me,"  ex 
claimed  the  girl,  facing  about,  and  nodding  her 
head  at  him,  "that  you  are  going  abroad  after 
a  woman  whom  you  have  never  seen,  and  be 
cause  you  like  a  picture  of  her  in  a  paper?" 

"I  do,"  said  Carlton.  "Because  I  like  her 
picture,  and  because  she  is  a  Princess." 

"Well,  upon  my  word,"  said  Miss  Morris, 
gazing  at  him  with  evident  admiration,  "that's 
what  my  younger  brother  would  call  a  distinctly 
sporting  proposition.  Only  I  don't  see,"  she 
added,  "what  her  being  a  Princess  has  to  do 
with  it." 

''You     don't?"      laughed     Carlton     easily. 

'That's  the  best  part  of  it — that's  the  plot. 

The  beauty  of  being  in  love  with  a  Princess, 

Miss  Morris,"  he  said,   "lies  in  the  fact  that 

78 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

you  can't  marry  her;  that  you  can  love  her 
deeply  and  forever,  and  nobody  will  ever  come 
to  you  and  ask  your  intentions,  or  hint  that 
after  such  a  display  of  affection  you  ought  to 
do  something.  Now,  with  a  girl  who  is  not  a 
Princess,  even  if  she  understands  the  situation 
herself,  and  wouldn't  marry  you  to  save  her 
life,  still  there  is  always  some  one — a  father,  or 
a  mother,  or  one  of  your  friends — who  makes 
it  his  business  to  interfere,  and  talks  about  it, 
and  bothers  you  both.  But  \vith  a  Princess, 
you  see,  that  is  all  eliminated.  You  can't 
marry  a  Princess,  because  they  won't  let  you. 
A  Princess  has  got  to  marry  a  real  royal  chap, 
and  so  you  are  perfectly  ineligible  and  free  to 
sigh  for  her,  and  make  pretty  speeches  to  her, 
and  see  her  as  often  as  you  can,  and  revel  in 
your  devotion  and  unrequited  affection." 

Miss  Morris  regarded  him  doubtfully.  She 
did  not  wish  to  prove  herself  too  credulous. 
"And  you  honestly  want  me,  Mr.  Carlton,  to 
believe  that  you  are  going  abroad  just  for 
this?" 

'You  see,"  Carlton  answered  her,  "if  you 
only  knew  me  better  you  would  have  no  doubt 
on  the  subject  at  all.  It  isn't  the  thing  some 
men  would  do,  I  admit,  but  it  is  exactly  what 
any  one  who  knows  me  would  expect  of  me.  I 
should  describe  it,  having  had  acquaintance 

79 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

with  the  young  man  for  some  time,  as  being 
eminently  characteristic.  And  besides,  think 
what  a  good  story  it  makes !  Every  other  man 
who  goes  abroad  this  summer  will  try  to  tell 
about  his  travels  when  he  gets  back  to  New 
York,  and,  as  usual,  no  one  will  listen  to  him. 
But  they  will  have  to  listen  to  me.  'You've 
been  across  since  I  saw  you  last.  What  did 
you  do?'  they'll  ask,  politely.  And  then,  in 
stead  of  simply  telling  them  that  I  have  been 
in  Paris  or  London,  I  can  say,  'Oh,  I've  been 
chasing  around  the  globe  after  the  Princess 
Aline  of  Hohenwald.'  That  sounds  interesting, 
doesn't  it?  When  you  come  to  think  of  it," 
Carlton  continued,  meditatively,  "it  is  not  so 
very  remarkable.  Men  go  all  the  way  to  Cuba 
and  Mexico,  and  even  to  India,  after  orchids, 
after  a  nasty  flower  that  grows  in  an  absurd 
way  on  the  top  of  a  tree.  Why  shouldn't  a 
young  man  go  as  far  as  Germany  after  a  beau 
tiful  Princess,  who  walks  on  the  ground,  and 
who  can  talk  and  think  and  feel?  She  is  much 
more  worth  while  than  an  orchid." 

Miss  Morris  laughed  indulgently.  "Well,  I 
didn't  know  such  devotion  existed  at  this  end 
of  the  century,"  she  said;  "it's  quite  nice  and 
encouraging.  I  hope  you  will  succeed,  I  am 
sure.  I  only  wish  we  were  going  to  be  near 
enough  to  see  how  you  get  on.  I  have  never 

80 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

been  a  confidante  when  there  was  a  real  Prin 
cess  concerned,"  she  said;  "it  makes  it  so  much 
more  amusing.  May  one  ask  what  your  plans 
are?" 

Carlton  doubted  if  he  had  any  plans  as  yet. 
"I  have  to  reach  the  ground  first,"  he  said, 
"and  after  that  I  must  reconnoitre.  I  may 
possibly  adopt  your  idea,  and  ask  to  paint  her 
portrait,  only  I  dislike  confusing  my  social  and 
professional  sides.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  though," 
he  said,  after  a  pause,  laughing  guiltily,  "I 
have  done  a  little  of  that  already.  I  prepared 
her,  as  it  were,  for  my  coming.  I  sent  her 
studies  of  two  pictures  I  made  last  winter  in 
Berlin.  One  of  the  Prime  Minister,  and  one  of 
Ludwig,  the  tragedian  at  the  Court  Theatre. 
I  sent  them  to  her  through  my  London  agent, 
so  that  she  would  think  they  had  come  from 
some  one  of  her  English  friends,  and  I  told  the 
dealer  not  to  let  any  one  know  who  had  for 
warded  them.  My  idea  was  that  it  might  help 
me,  perhaps,  if  she  knew  something  about  me 
before  I  appeared  in  person.  It  was  a  sort  of 
letter  of  introduction  written  by  myself." 

"Well,  really,"  expostulated  Miss  Morris, 
"you  certainly  woo  in  a  royal  way.  Are  you  in 
the  habit  of  giving  away  your  pictures  to  any 
one  whose  photograph  you  happen  to  like? 
That  seems  to  me  to  be  giving  new  lamps  for 

81 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

old  to  a  degree.  I  must  see  if  I  haven't  some 
of  my  sister's  photographs  in  my  trunk.  She 
is  considered  very  beautiful." 

"Well,  you  wait  until  you  see  this  particular 
portrait,  and  you  will  understand  it  better," 
said  Carlton. 

The  steamer  reached  Southampton  early  in 
the  afternoon,  and  Carlton  secured  a  special 
compartment  on  the  express  to  London  for  Mrs. 
Downs  and  her  niece  and  himself,  with  one  ad 
joining  for  their  maid  and  Nolan.  It  was  a 
beautiful  day,  and  Carlton  sat  with  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  passing  fields  and  villages,  ex 
claiming  with  pleasure  from  time  to  time  at  the 
white  roads  and  the  feathery  trees  and  hedges, 
and  the  red  roofs  of  the  inns  and  square  towers 
of  the  village  churches. 

"Hedges  are  better  than  barbed-wire  fences, 
aren't  they?"  he  said.  "You  see  that  girl 
picking  wild  flowers  from  one  of  them?  She 
looks  just  as  though  she  were  posing  for  a  pic 
ture  for  an  illustrated  paper.  She  couldn't  pick 
flowers  from  a  barbed-wire  fence,  could  she? 
And  there  would  probably  be  a  tramp  along  the 
road  somewhere  to  frighten  her;  and  see — the 
chap  in  knickerbockers  farther  down  the  road 
leaning  on  the  stile.  I  am  sure  he  is  waiting  for 
her;  and  here  comes  a  coach,"  he  ran  on. 
"Don't  the  red  wheels  look  well  against  the 

82 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

hedges?  It's  a  pretty  little  country,  England, 
isn't  it? — like  a  private  park  or  a  model  vil 
lage.  I  am  glad  to  get  back  to  it — I  am  glad 
to  see  the  three-and-six  signs  with  the  little 
slanting  dash  between  the  shillings  and  pennies. 
Yes,  even  the  steam-rollers  and  the  man  with 
the  red  flag  in  front  are  welcome." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Downs,  "it's  because 
one  has  been  so  long  on  the  ocean  that  the  ride 
to  London  seems  so  interesting.  It  always  pays 
me  for  the  entire  trip.  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a 
sigh,  "in  spite  of  the  patent-medicine  signs  they 
have  taken  to  putting  up  all  along  the  road. 
It  seems  a  pity  they  should  adopt  our  bad 
habits  instead  of  our  good  ones." 

"They  are  a  bit  slow  at  adopting  anything," 
commented  Carlton.  "Did  you  know,  Mrs. 
Downs,  that  electric  lights  are  still  as  scarce  in 
London  as  they  are  in  Timbuctoo?  Why,  I 
saw  an  electric-light  plant  put  up  in  a  West 
ern  town  in  three  days  once;  there  were  over  a 
hundred  burners  in  one  saloon,  and  the  engi 
neer  who  put  them  up  told  me  in  confidence 
that- 

What  the  chief  engineer  told  him  in  confi 
dence  was  never  disclosed,  for  at  that  moment 
Miss  Morris  interrupted  him  with  a  sudden 
sharp  exclamation. 

"Oh,  Mr.   Carlton,"   she  exclaimed,   breath- 

83 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

lessly,  "listen  to  this!"  She  had  been  reading 
one  of  the  dozen  papers  which  Carlton  had  pur 
chased  at  the  station,  and  was  now  shaking  one 
of  them  at  him,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  open 
page. 

"My  dear  Edith,"  remonstrated  her  aunt, 
"Mr.  Carlton  was  telling  us ! 

"Yes,  I  know,"  exclaimed  Miss  Morris, 
laughing,  "but  this  interests  him  much  more 
than  electric  lights.  Who  do  you  think  is  in 
London?"  she  cried,  raising  her  eyes  to  his, 
and  pausing  for  proper  dramatic  effect.  "The 
Princess  Aline  of  Hohenwald!" 

"No?"   shouted  Carlton. 

"Yes,"  Miss  Morris  answered,  mocking  his 
tone.  "Listen.  'The  Queen's  Drawing-room* 
— em — e — m — 'on  her  right  was  the  Princess  of 
Wales' — em — m.  Oh,  I  can't  find  it — no — yes, 
here  it  is.  'Next  to  her  stood  the  Princess  Aline 
of  Hohenwald.  She  wore  a  dress  of  white  silk, 
with  train  of  silver  brocade  trimmed  with  fur. 
Ornaments — emeralds  and  diamonds;  orders 
—Victoria  and  Albert,  Jubilee  Commemora 
tion  Medal,  Coburg  and  Gotha,  and  Hohen 
wald  and  Grasse.'  ' 

"By  Jove!"  cried  Carlton,  excitedly.  "I 
say,  is  that  really  there?  Let  me  see  it,  please, 
for  myself." 

Miss  Morris  handed  him  the  paper,  with  her 
84 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

finger  on  the  paragraph,  and  picking  up  an 
other,  began  a  search  down  its  columns. 

"You  are  right,"  exclaimed  Carlton,  sol 
emnly;  "it's  she,  sure  enough.  And  here  I've 
been  within  two  hours  of  her  and  didn't  know 
it?" 

Miss  Morris  gave  another  triumphant  cry, 
as  though  she  had  discovered  a  vein  of  gold. 

:<Yes,  and  here  she  is  again,"  she  said,  "in 
the  Gentlewoman:  'The  Queen's  dress  was  of 
black,  as  usual,  but  relieved  by  a  few  violet  rib 
bons  in  the  bonnet;  and  Princess  Beatrice, 
who  sat  by  her  mother's  side,  showed  but  little 
trace  of  the  anxiety  caused  by  Princess  Ena's 
accident.  Princess  Aline,  on  the  front  seat,  in  a 
light-brown  jacket  and  a  becoming  bonnet,  gave 
the  necessary  touch  to  a  picture  which  Lon 
doners  would  be  glad  to  look  upon  more 
often.'  " 

Carlton  sat  staring  forward,  with  his  hands 
on  his  knees,  and  with  his  eyes  open  wide  from 
excitement.  He  presented  so  unusual  an  ap 
pearance  of  bewilderment  and  delight  that  Mrs. 
Downs  looked  at  him  and  at  her  niece  for  some 
explanation.  'The  young  lady  seems  to  in 
terest  you,"  said  she,  tentatively. 

"She  is  the  most  charming  creature  in  the 
world,  Mrs.  Downs,"  cried  Carlton,  "and  I  was 
going  all  the  way  to  Grasse  to  see  her,  and  now 

85 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

it  turns  out  that  she  is  here  in  England,  within 
a  few  miles  of  us."  He  turned  and  waved  his 
hands  at  the  passing  landscape.  "Every  min 
ute  brings  us  nearer  together." 

"And  you  didn't  feel  it  in  the  air!"  mocked 
Miss  Morris,  laughing.  "You  are  a  pretty  poor 
sort  of  a  man  to  let  a  girl  tell  you  where  to  find 
the  woman  you  love." 

Carlton  did  not  answer,  but  stared  at  her 
very  seriously  and  frowned  intently.  "Now  I 
have  got  to  begin  all  over  again  and  readjust 
things,"  he  said.  "We  might  have  guessed  she 
would  be  in  London,  on  account  of  this  royal 
wedding.  It  is  a  great  pity  it  isn't  later  in  the 
season,  when  there  would  be  more  things  going 
on  and  more  chances  of  meeting  her.  Now 
they  will  all  be  interested  in  themselves,  and, 
being  extremely  exclusive,  no  one  who  isn't  a 
cousin  to  the  bridegroom  or  an  Emperor  would 
have  any  chance  at  all.  Still,  I  can  see  her !  I 
can  look  at  her,  and  that's  something." 

"It  is  better  than  a  photograph,  anyway," 
said  Miss  Morris. 

"They  will  be  either  at  Buckingham  Palace 
or  at  Windsor,  or  they  will  stop  at  Brown's," 
said  Carlton.  "All  royalties  go  to  Brown's.  I 
don't  know  why,  unless  it  is  because  it  is  so  ex 
pensive;  or  maybe  it  is  expensive  because  roy 
alties  go  there;  but,  in  any  event,  if  they  are 

86 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

not  at  the  palace,  that  is  where  they  will  be, 
and  that  is  where  I  shall  have  to  go  too/' 

When  the  train  drew  up  at  Victoria  Station, 
Carlton  directed  Nolan  to  take  his  things  to 
Brown's  Hotel,  but  not  to  unload  them  until 
he  had  arrived.  Then  he  drove  with  the  ladies 
to  Cox's,  and  saw  them  settled  there.  He 
promised  to  return  at  once  to  dine,  and  to  tell 
them  what  he  had  discovered  in  his  absence. 
'You've  got  to  help  me  in  this,  Miss  Morris," 
he  said,  nervously.  "I  am  beginning  to  feel 
that  I  am  not  worthy  of  her." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  are  !"  she  said,  laughing;  "but 
don't  forget  that  'it's  not  the  lover  who  comes 
to  woo,  but  the  lover's  way  of  wooing,'  and  that 
'faint  heart' — and  the  rest  of  it." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Carlton,  doubtfully; 
"but  it's  a  bit  sudden,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh,  I  am  ashamed  of  you  !  You  are  fright 
ened." 

"No,  not  frightened,  exactly,"  said  the 
painter.  "I  think  it's  just  natural  emotion." 

As  Carlton  turned  into  Albemarle  Street  he 
noticed  a  red  carpet  stretching  from  the  door 
way  of  Brown's  Hotel  out  across  the  sidewalk 
to  a  carriage,  and  a  bareheaded  man  bustling 
about  apparently  assisting  several  gentlemen 
to  get  into  it.  This  and  another  carriage  and 
Nolan's  four-wheeler  blocked  the  way;  but 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

without  waiting  for  them  to  move  up,  Carlton 
leaned  out  of  his  hansom  and  called  the  bare 
headed  man  to  its  side. 

"  Is  the  Duke  of  Hohenwald  stopping  at  your 
hotel?"  he  asked.  The  bareheaded  man  an 
swered  that  he  was. 

"AH  right,  Nolan,"  cried  Carlton.  "They 
can  take  in  the  trunks." 

Hearing  this,  the  bareheaded  man  hastened 
to  help  Carlton  to  alight.  "That  was  the  Duke 
who  just  drove  off,  sir;  and  those,"  he  said, 
pointing  to  three  muffled  figures  who  were  step 
ping  into  a  second  carriage,  "are  his  sisters,  the 
Princesses." 

Carlton  stopped  midway,  with  one  foot  on  the 
step  and  the  other  in  the  air. 

"The  deuce  they  are!"  he  exclaimed;  "and 
which  is — J:'  he  began,  eagerly,  and  then,  re 
membering  himself,  dropped  back  on  the  cush 
ions  of  the  hansom. 

He  broke  into  the  little  dining-room  at  Cox's 
in  so  excited  a  state  that  two  dignified  old  gen 
tlemen  who  were  eating  there  sat  open-mouthed 
in  astonished  disapproval.  Mrs.  Downs  and 
Miss  Morris  had  just  come  down-stairs. 

"I  have  seen  her!"  Carlton  cried,  ecstati 
cally;  "only  half  an  hour  in  the  town,  and  I've 
seen  her  already!" 

"No,  really?"  exclaimed  Miss  Morris.    "And 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

how  did  she  look?    Is  she  as  beautiful  as  you 
expected?" 

"Well,  I  can't  tell  yet,"  Carlton  answered. 
'There  were  three  of  them,  and  they  were  all 
muffled  up,  and  which  one  of  the  three  she  was 
I  don't  know.  She  wasn't  labelled,  as  in  the 
picture,  but  she  was  there,  and  I  saw  her.  The 
woman  I  love  was  one  of  those  three,  and  I 
have  engaged  rooms  at  the  hotel,  and  this  very 
night  the  same  roof  shelters  us  both." 


II 

"THE  course  of  true  love  certainly  runs 
smoothly  with  you,"  said  Miss  Morris,  as  they 
seated  themselves  at  the  table.  "What  is  your 
next  move?  What  do  you  mean  to  do  now?" 

"The  rest  is  very  simple/'  said  Carlton. 
"To-morrow  morning  I  will  go  to  the  Row;  I 
will  be  sure  to  find  some  one  there  who  knows 
all  about  them — where  they  are  going,  and  who 
they  are  seeing,  and  what  engagements  they 
may  have.  Then  it  will  only  be  a  matter  of 
looking  up  some  friend  in  the  Household  or  in 
one  of  the  embassies  who  can  present  me." 

"Oh,"  said  Miss  Morris,  in  the  tone  of  keen 
est  disappointment,  "but  that  is  such  a  com 
monplace  ending !  You  started  out  so  roman 
tically.  Couldn't  you  manage  to  meet  her  in  a 
less  conventional  way?" 

"I  am  afraid  not,"  said  Carlton.  "You  see,  I 
want  to  meet  her  very  much,  and  to  meet  her 
very  soon,  and  the  quickest  way  of  meeting 
her,  whether  it's  romantic  or  not,  isn't  a  bit 
too  quick  for  me.  There  will  be  romance 
enough  after  I  am  presented,  if  I  have  my  way." 

But  Carlton  was  not  to  have  his  way;  for  he 
90 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

had  overlooked  the  fact  that  it  requires  as  many 
to  make  an  introduction  as  a  bargain,  and  he 
had  left  the  Duke  of  Hohenwald  out  of  his  con 
siderations.  He  met  many  people  he  knew  in 
the  Row  the  next  morning;  they  asked  him  to 
lunch,  and  brought  their  horses  up  to  the  rail, 
and  he  patted  the  horses'  heads,  and  led  the 
conversation  around  to  the  royal  wedding,  and 
through  it  to  the  Hohenwalds.  He  learned  that 
they  had  attended  a  reception  at  the  German 
Embassy  on  the  previous  night,  and  it  was  one 
of  the  secretaries  of  that  embassy  who  informed 
him  of  their  intended  departure  that  morning 
on  the  eleven  o'clock  train  to  Paris. 

"To  Paris!"  cried  Carlton,  in  consternation. 
"What!  all  of  them?" 

"Yes,  all  of  them,  of  course.  Why?"  asked 
the  young  German.  But  Carlton  was  already 
dodging  across  the  tan-bark  to  Piccadilly  and 
waving  his  stick  at  a  hansom. 

Nolan  met  him  at  the  door  of  Brown's  Hotel 
with  an  anxious  countenance. 

"Their  Royal  Highnesses  have  gone,  sir,"  he 
said.  "But  I've  packed  your  trunks  and  sent 
them  to  the  station.  Shall  I  follow  them,  sir?" 

"Yes,"  said  Carlton.  "Follow  the  trunks 
and  follow  the  Hohenwalds.  I  will  come  over 
on  the  Club  train  at  four.  Meet  me  at  the  sta 
tion,  and  tell  me  to  what  hotel  they  have  gone. 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

Wait;  if  I  miss  you,  you  can  find  me  at  the 
Hotel  Continental;  but  if  they  go  straight  on 
through  Paris,  you  go  with  them,  and  telegraph 
me  here  and  to  the  Continental.  Telegraph  at 
every  station,  so  I  can  keep  track  of  you.  Have 
you  enough  money?*' 

"I  have,  sir — enough  for  a  long  trip,  sir." 

"Well,  you'll  need  it,"  said  Carlton,  grimly. 
"This  is  going  to  be  a  long  trip.  It  is  twenty 
minutes  to  eleven  now;  you  will  have  to  hurry. 
Have  you  paid  my  bill  here?" 

"I  have,  sir,"  said  Nolan. 

"Then  get  off,  and  don't  lose  sight  of  those 
people  again." 

Carlton  attended  to  several  matters  of  busi 
ness,  and  then  lunched  with  Mrs.  Downs  and  her 
niece.  He  had  grown  to  like  them  very  much, 
and  was  sorry  to  lose  sight  of  them,  but  con 
soled  himself  by  thinking  he  would  see  them  a 
few  days  at  least  in  Paris.  He  judged  that  he 
would  be  there  for  some  time,  as  he  did  not 
think  the  Princess  Aline  and  her  sisters  would 
pass  through  that  city  without  stopping  to  visit 
the  shops  on  the  Rue  de  la  Paix. 

"AH  women  are  not  princesses,"  he  argued, 
"but  all  princesses  are  women." 

"We  will  be  in  Paris  on  Wednesday,"  Mrs. 
Downs  told  him.  "The  Orient  Express  leaves 
there  twice  a  week,  on  Mondays  and  Thursdays, 

92 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

and  we  have  taken  an  apartment  for  next  Thurs 
day,  and  will  go  right  on  to  Constantinople." 

"But  I  thought  you  said  you  had  to  buy  a  lot 
of  clothes  there?"  Carlton  expostulated. 

Mrs.  Downs  said  that  they  would  do  that  on 
their  way  home. 

Nolan  met  Carlton  at  the  station,  and  told 
him  that  he  had  followed  the  Hohenwalds  to  the 
Hotel  Meurice.  "There  is  the  Duke,  sir,  and 
the  three  Princesses,"  Nolan  said,  "and  there 
are  two  German  gentlemen  acting  as  equerries, 
and  an  English  captain,  a  sort  of  A.  D.  C.  to  the 
Duke,  and  two  elderly  ladies,  and  eight  servants. 
They  travel  very  simple,  sir,  and  their  people 
are  in  undress  livery.  Brown  and  red,  sir." 

Carlton  pretended  not  to  listen  to  this.  He 
had  begun  to  doubt  but  that  Nolan's  zeal  would 
lead  him  into  some  indiscretion,  and  would  end 
disastrously  to  himself.  He  spent  the  evening 
alone  in  front  of  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  pleasantly 
occupied  in  watching  the  life  and  movement  of 
that  great  meeting  of  the  highways.  It  did  not 
seem  possible  that  he  had  ever  been  away.  It 
was  as  though  he  had  picked  up  a  book  and 
opened  it  at  the  page  and  place  at  which  he  had 
left  off  reading  it  a  moment  before.  There  was 
the  same  type,  the  same  plot,  and  the  same  char 
acters,  who  were  doing  the  same  characteristic 
things.  Even  the  waiter  who  tipped  out  his 

93 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

coffee  knew  him;  and  he  knew,  or  felt  as 
though  he  knew,  half  of  those  who  passed,  or 
who  shared  with  him  the  half  of  the  sidewalk. 
The  women  at  the  next  table  considered  the 
slim,  good-looking  young  American  with  friendly 
curiosity,  and  the  men  with  them  discussed  him 
in  French,  until  a  well-known  Parisian  recog 
nized  Carlton  in  passing,  and  hailed  him  joy 
ously  in  the  same  language,  at  which  the  women 
laughed  and  the  men  looked  sheepishly  con 
scious. 

On  the  following  morning  Carlton  took  up 
his  post  in  the  open  court  of  the  Meurice,  with 
his  coffee  and  the  Figaro  to  excuse  his  loitering 
there.  He  had  not  been  occupied  with  these 
over-long  before  Nolan  approached  him,  in 
some  excitement,  with  the  information  that 
their  Royal  Highnesses — as  he  delighted  to  call 
them — were  at  that  moment  "coming  down  the 
lift." 

Carlton  could  hear  their  voices,  and  wished 
to  step  around  the  corner  and  see  them;  it  was 
for  this  chance  he  had  been  waiting;  but  he 
could  not  afford  to  act  in  so  undignified  a  man 
ner  before  Nolan,  so  he  merely  crossed  his  legs 
nervously,  and  told  the  servant  to  go  back  to 
the  rooms. 

"Confound  him  !"  he  said;  "I  wish  he  would 
let  me  conduct  my  own  affairs  in  my  own  way. 

94 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

If  I  don't  stop  him,  he'll  carry  the  Princess 
Aline  off  by  force  and  send  me  word  where  he 
has  hidden  her." 

The  Hohenwalds  had  evidently  departed  for  a 
day's  outing,  as  up  to  five  o'clock  they  had  not 
returned;  and  Carlton,  after  loitering  all  the 
afternoon,  gave  up  waiting  for  them,  and  went 
out  to  dine  at  Laurent's,  in  the  Champs-EIy- 
sees.  He  had  finished  his  dinner,  and  was  lean 
ing  luxuriously  forward,  with  his  elbows  on  the 
table,  and  knocking  the  cigar  ashes  into  his 
coffee-cup.  He  was  pleasantly  content.  The 
trees  hung  heavy  with  leaves  over  his  head,  a 
fountain  played  and  overflowed  at  his  elbow, 
and  the  lamps  of  the  fiacres  passing  and  re- 
passing  on  the  Avenue  of  the  Champs-EIysees 
shone  like  giant  fire-flies  through  the  foliage. 
The  touch  of  the  gravel  beneath  his  feet  em 
phasized  the  free,  out-of-door  charm  of  the  place, 
and  the  faces  of  the  others  around  him  looked 
more  than  usually  cheerful  in  the  light  of  the 
candles  flickering  under  the  clouded  shades. 
His  mind  had  gone  back  to  his  earlier  student 
days  in  Paris,  when  life  always  looked  as  it  did 
now  in  the  brief  half-hour  of  satisfaction  which 
followed  a  cold  bath  or  a  good  dinner,  and  he 
had  forgotten  himself  and  his  surroundings. 
It  was  the  voices  of  the  people  at  the  table  be 
hind  him  that  brought  him  back  to  the  present 

95 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

moment.  A  man  was  talking;  he  spoke  in 
English,  with  an  accent. 

"I  should  like  to  go  again  through  the  Lux 
embourg,"  he  said;  "but  you  need  not  be 
bound  by  what  I  do." 

"I  think  it  would  be  pleasanter  if  we  all  keep 
together,"  said  a  girl's  voice,  quietly.  She  also 
spoke  in  English,  and  with  the  same  accent. 

The  people  whose  voices  had  interrupted  him 
were  sitting  and  standing  around  a  long  table, 
which  the  waiters  had  made  large  enough  for 
their  party  by  placing  three  of  the  smaller  ones 
side  by  side;  they  had  finished  their  dinner, 
and  the  women,  who  sat  with  their  backs  toward 
Carlton,  were  pulling  on  their  gloves. 

"Which  is  it  to  be,  then?"  said  the  gentle 
man,  smiling.  "The  pictures  or  the  dress 
makers?" 

The  girl  who  had  first  spoken  turned  to  the 
one  next  to  her. 

"Which  would  you  rather  do,  Aline?"  she 
asked. 

Carlton  moved  so  suddenly  that  the  men  be 
hind  him  looked  at  him  curiously;  but  he  turned, 
nevertheless,  in  his  chair  and  faced  them,  and 
in  order  to  excuse  his  doing  so  beckoned  to  one 
of  the  waiters.  He  was  within  two  feet  of  the 
girl  who  had  been  called  "Aline."  She  raised 
her  head  to  speak,  and  saw  Carlton  staring 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

open-eyed  at  her.  She  glanced  at  him  for  an 
instant,  as  if  to  assure  herself  that  she  did  not 
know  him,  and  then,  turning  to  her  brother, 
smiled  in  the  same  tolerant,  amused  way  in 
which  she  had  so  often  smiled  upon  Carlton 
from  the  picture. 

"I  am  afraid  I  had  rather  go  to  the  Bon 
Marche,"  she  said. 

One  of  the  waiters  stepped  in  between  them, 
and  Carlton  asked  him  for  his  bill;  but  when 
it  came  he  left  it  lying  on  the  plate,  and  sat 
staring  out  into  the  night  between  the  candles, 
puffing  sharply  on  his  cigar,  and  recalling  to 
his  memory  his  first  sight  of  the  Princess  Aline 
of  Hohenwald. 

That  night,  as  he  turned  into  bed,  he  gave 
a  comfortable  sigh  of  content.  "  I  am  glad  she 
chose  the  dressmakers  instead  of  the  pictures," 
he  said. 

Mrs.  Downs  and  Miss  Morris  arrived  in  Paris 
on  Wednesday,  and  expressed  their  anxiety  to 
have  Carlton  lunch  with  them,  and  to  hear  him 
tell  of  the  progress  of  his  love-affair.  There 
was  not  much  to  tell;  the  Hohenwalds  had 
come  and  gone  from  the  hotel  as  freely  as  any 
other  tourists  in  Paris,  but  the  very  lack  of 
ceremony  about  their  movements  was  in  itself 
a  difficulty.  The  manner  of  acquaintance  he 
could  make  in  the  court  of  the  Hotel  Meurice 

97 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

with  one  of  the  men  over  a  cup  of  coffee  or  a 
glass  of  bock  would  be  as  readily  discontinued 
as  begun,  and  for  his  purpose  it  would  have 
been  much  better  if  the  Hohenwalds  had  been 
living  in  state  with  a  visitors'  book  and  a 
chamberlain. 

On  Wednesday  evening  Carlton  took  the 
ladies  to  the  opera,  where  the  Hohenwalds 
occupied  a  box  immediately  opposite  them. 
Carlton  pretended  to  be  surprised  at  this  fact, 
but  Mrs.  Downs  doubted  his  sincerity. 

"I  saw  Nolan  talking  to  their  courier  to 
day,"  she  said,  "and  I  fancy  he  asked  a  few 
leading  questions.'* 

"Well,  he  didn't  learn  much  if  he  did,"  he 
said.  "The  fellow  only  talks  German." 

"Ah,  then  he  has  been  asking  questions!" 
said  Miss  Morris. 

"Well,  he  does  it  on  his  own  responsibility," 
said  Carlton,  "for  I  told  him  to  have  nothing 
to  do  with  servants.  He  has  too  much  zeal,  has 
Nolan;  I'm  afraid  of  him." 

"If  you  were  only  half  as  interested  as  he 
is,"  said  Miss  Morris,  "you  would  have  known 
her  long  ago." 

"Long  ago?"  exclaimed  Carlton.  "I  only 
saw  her  four  days  since." 

"She  is  certainly  very  beautiful,"  said  Miss 
Morris,  looking  across  the  auditorium. 

Q8 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

"But  she  isn't  there,"  said  Carlton.  "That's 
the  eldest  sister;  the  two  other  sisters  went  out 
on  the  coach  this  morning  to  Versailles,  and 
were  too  tired  to  come  to-night.  At  least,  so 
Nolan  says.  He  seems  to  have  established  a 
friendship  for  their  English  maid,  but  whether 
it's  on  my  account  or  his  own  I  don't  know.  I 
doubt  his  unselfishness." 

"How  disappointing  of  her!"  said  Miss 
Morris.  "And  after  you  had  selected  a  box 
just  across  the  way,  too.  It  is  such  a  pity  to 
waste  it  on  us."  Carlton  smiled,  and  looked 
up  at  her  impudently,  as  though  he  meant  to 
say  something;  but  remembering  that  she  was 
engaged  to  be  married,  changed  his  mind,  and 
lowered  his  eyes  to  his  programme. 

"Why  didn't  you  say  it?"  asked  Miss  Mor 
ris,  calmly,  turning  her  glass  to  the  stage. 
"Wasn't  it  pretty?" 

"No,"  said  Carlton — "not  pretty  enough." 

The  ladies  left  the  hotel  the  next  day  to  take 
the  Orient  Express,  which  left  Paris  at  six 
o'clock.  They  had  bidden  Carlton  good-by 
at  four  the  same  afternoon,  and  as  he  had  come 
to  their  rooms  for  that  purpose,  they  were  in 
consequence  a  little  surprised  to  see  him  at  the 
station,  running  wildly  along  the  platform,  fol 
lowed  by  Nolan  and  a  porter.  He  came  into 
their  compartment  after  the  train  had  started, 

99 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

and  shook  his  head  sadly  at  them  from  the 
door. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  this?"  he  said. 
"You  can't  get  rid  of  me,  you  see.  I'm  going 
with  you." 

"Going  with  us?"  asked  Mrs.  Downs. 
"How  far?" 

Carlton  laughed,  and,  coming  inside,  dropped 
onto  the  cushions  with  a  sigh.  "I  don't  know," 
he  said,  dejectedly.  "All  the  way,  I'm  afraid. 
That  is,  I  mean,  I'm  very  glad  I  am  to  have 
your  society  for  a  few  days  more;  but  really  I 
didn't  bargain  for  this." 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  they  are  on 
this  train?"  said  Miss  Morris. 

"They  are,"  said  Carlton.  "They  have  a 
car  to  themselves  at  the  rear.  They  only  made 
up  their  minds  to  go  this  morning,  and  they 
nearly  succeeded  in  giving  me  the  slip  again; 
but  it  seems  that  their  English  maid  stopped 
Nolan  in  the  hall  to  bid  him  good-by,  and  so  he 
found  out  their  plans.  They  are  going  direct 
to  Constantinople,  and  then  to  Athens.  They 
had  meant  to  stay  in  Paris  two  weeks  longer,  it 
seems,  but  they  changed  their  minds  last  night. 
It  was  a  very  close  shave  for  me.  I  only  got 
back  to  the  hotel  in  time  to  hear  from  the  con 
cierge  that  Nolan  had  flown  with  all  of  my 
things,  and  left  word  for  me  to  follow.  Just 

100 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

fancy !  Suppose  I  had  missed  the  train,  and 
had  had  to  chase  him  clear  across  the  conti 
nent  of  Europe  with  not  even  a  razor— 

"I  am  glad,"  said  Miss  Morris,  "that  Nolan 
has  not  taken  a  fancy  to  me.  I  doubt  if  I  could 
resist  such  impetuosity." 

The  Orient  Express,  in  which  Carlton  and 
the  mistress  of  his  heart  and  fancy  were  speed 
ing  toward  the  horizon's  utmost  purple  rim, 
was  made  up  of  six  cars,  one  dining-car  with  a 
smoking-apartment  attached,  and  five  sleep 
ing-cars,  including  the  one  reserved  for  the 
Duke  of  Hohenwald  and  his  suite.  These  cars 
were  lightly  built,  and  rocked  in  consequence, 
and  the  dust  raised  by  the  rapid  movement  of 
the  train  swept  through  cracks  and  open  win 
dows,  and  sprinkled  the  passengers  with  a  fine 
and  irritating  coating  of  soot  and  earth.  There 
was  one  servant  to  the  entire  twenty-two  pas 
sengers.  He  spoke  eight  languages,  and  never 
slept;  but  as  his  services  were  in  demand  by 
several  people  in  as  many  different  cars  at  the 
same  moment  he  satisfied  no  one,  and  the 
complaint-box  in  the  smoking-car  was  stuffed 
full  to  the  slot  in  consequence  before  they  had 
crossed  the  borders  of  France. 

Carlton  and  Miss  Morris  went  out  upon  one 
of  the  platforms  and  sat  down  upon  a  tool-box. 
"It  isn't  as  comfortable  here  as  in  an  observa- 

101 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

tion-car  at  home,'*  said  Carlton,  "but  it's  just 
as  noisy." 

He  pointed  out  to  her  from  time  to  time  the 
peasants  gathering  twigs,  and  the  blue-bloused 
gendarmes  guarding  the  woods  and  the  fences 
skirting  them.  "Nothing  is  allowed  to  go  to 
waste  in  this  country,"  he  said.  "It  looks  as 
though  they  went  over  it  once  a  month  with  a 
lawn-mower  and  a  pruning-knife.  I  believe 
they  number  the  trees  as  we  number  the  houses." 

"And  did  you  notice  the  great  fortifications 
covered  with  grass?"  she  said.  "We  have 
passed  such  a  lot  of  them." 

Carlton  nodded. 

"And  did  you  notice  that  they  all  faced  only 
one  way?" 

Carlton  laughed,  and  nodded  again.  c*  To 
ward  Germany,"  he  said. 

By  the  next  day  they  had  left  the  tall  poplars 
and  white  roads  behind  them,  and  were  cross 
ing  the  land  of  low,  shiny  black  helmets  and 
brass  spikes.  They  had  come  into  a  country  of 
low  mountains  and  black  forests,  with  old  for 
tified  castles  topping  the  hills,  and  with  red- 
roofed  villages  scattered  around  the  base. 

"How  very  military  it  all  is!"  Mrs.  Downs 
said.  "Even  the  men  at  the  lonely  little  sta 
tions  in  the  forests  wear  uniforms;  and  do  you 
notice  how  each  of  them  rolls  up  his  red  flag 

1 02 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

and  holds  it  like  a  sword,  and  salutes  the  train 
as  it  passes?" 

They  spent  the  hour  during  which  the  train 
shifted  from  one  station  in  Vienna  to  the  other 
driving  about  in  an  open  carriage,  and  stopped 
for  a  few  moments  in  front  of  a  cafe  to  drink 
beer  and  to  feel  solid  earth  under  them  again, 
returning  to  the  train  with  a  feeling  which  was 
almost  that  of  getting  back  to  their  own  rooms. 
Then  they  came  to  great  steppes  covered  with 
long  thick  grass,  and  flooded  in  places  with  lit 
tle  lakes  of  broken  ice;  great  horned  cattle 
stood  knee-deep  in  this  grass,  and  at  the  vil 
lages  and  way-stations  were  people  wearing 
sheepskin  jackets  and  waistcoats  covered  with 
silver  buttons.  In  one  place  there  was  a  wed 
ding  procession  waiting  for  the  train  to  pass, 
with  the  friends  of  the  bride  and  groom  in  their 
best  clothes,  the  women  with  silver  breastplates, 
and  boots  to  their  knees.  It  seemed  hardly  pos 
sible  that  only  two  days  before  they  had  seen 
another  wedding  party  in  the  Champs-EIysees, 
where  the  men  wore  evening  dress,  and  the 
women  were  bareheaded  and  with  long  trains. 
In  forty-eight  hours  they  had  passed  through 
republics,  principalities,  empires,  and  king 
doms,  and  from  spring  to  winter.  It  was  like 
walking  rapidly  over  a  painted  panorama  of 
Europe. 

103 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

On  the  second  evening  Carlton  went  off  into 
the  smoking-car  alone.  The  Duke  of  Hohen- 
wald  and  two  of  his  friends  had  finished  a  late 
supper,  and  were  seated  in  the  apartment  ad 
joining  it.  The  Duke  was  a  young  man  with  a 
heavy  beard  and  eye-glasses.  He  was  looking 
over  an  illustrated  catalogue  of  the  Salon,  and 
as  Carlton  dropped  on  the  sofa  opposite  the 
Duke  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  him  curi 
ously,  and  then  turned  over  several  pages  of 
the  catalogue  and  studied  one  of  them,  and 
then  back  at  Carlton,  as  though  he  were  com 
paring  him  with  something  on  the  page  before 
him.  Carlton  was  looking  out  at  the  night, 
but  he  could  follow  what  was  going  forward, 
as  it  was  reflected  in  the  glass  of  the  car  win 
dow.  He  saw  the  Duke  hand  the  catalogue  to 
one  of  the  equerries,  who  raised  his  eyebrows 
and  nodded  his  head  in  assent.  Carlton  won 
dered  what  this  might  mean,  until  he  remem 
bered  that  there  was  a  portrait  of  himself  by  a 
French  artist  in  the  Salon,  and  concluded  it  had 
been  reproduced  in  the  catalogue.  He  could 
think  of  nothing  else  which  would  explain  the 
interest  the  two  men  showed  in  him.  On  the 
morning  following  he  sent  Nolan  out  to  pur 
chase  a  catalogue  at  the  first  station  at  which 
they  stopped,  and  found  that  his  guess  was  a 
correct  one.  A  portrait  of  himself  had  been 

104 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

reproduced  in  black  and  white,  with  his  name 
below  it. 

"Well,  they  know  who  I  am  now,"  he  said  to 
Miss  Morris,  "even  if  they  don't  know  me. 
That  honor  is  still  in  store  for  them." 

"I  wish  they  did  not  lock  themselves  up  so 
tightly,"  said  Miss  Morris.  "  I  want  to  see  her 
very  much.  Cannot  we  walk  up  and  down  the 
platform  at  the  next  station?  She  may  be  at 
the  window." 

"Of  course,"  said  Carlton.  " You  could  have 
seen  her  at  Buda-Pesth  if  you  had  spoken  of  it. 
She  was  walking  up  and  down  then.  The  next 
time  the  train  stops  we  will  prowl  up  and  down 
and  feast  our  eyes  upon  her." 

But  Miss  Morris  had  her  wish  gratified  with 
out  that  exertion.  The  Hohenwalds  were 
served  in  the  dining-car  after  the  other  passen 
gers  had  finished,  and  were  in  consequence  only 
to  be  seen  when  they  passed  by  the  doors  of  the 
other  compartments.  But  this  same  morning, 
after  luncheon,  the  three  Princesses,  instead  of 
returning  to  their  own  car,  seated  themselves 
in  the  compartment  adjoining  the  dining-car, 
while  the  men  of  their  party  lit  their  cigars  and 
sat  in  a  circle  around  them. 

"I  was  wondering  how  long  they  could  stand 
three  men  smoking  in  one  of  the  boxes  they  call 
cars,"  said  Mrs.  Downs.  She  was  seated  be- 

105 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

tween  Miss  Morris  and  Carlton,  directly  oppo 
site  the  Hohenwalds,  and  so  near  them  that  she 
had  to  speak  in  a  whisper.  To  avoid  doing  this 
Miss  Morris  asked  Carlton  for  a  pencil,  and 
scribbled  with  it  in  the  novel  she  held  on  her 
lap.  Then  she  passed  them  both  back  to  him, 
and  said,  aloud:  "Have  you  read  this?  It  has 
such  a  pretty  dedication."  The  dedication  read, 
"Which  is  Aline?"  And  Carlton,  taking  the 
pencil  in  his  turn,  made  a  rapid  sketch  of  her 
on  the  fly-leaf,  and  wrote  beneath  it:  ''This  is 
she.  Do  you  wonder  I  travelled  four  thousand 
miles  to  see  her?" 

Miss  Morris  took  the  book  again,  and  glanced 
at  the  sketch,  and  then  at  the  three  Princesses, 
and  nodded  her  head.  "It  is  very  beautiful," 
she  said,  gravely,  looking  out  at  the  passing 
landscape. 

"Well,  not  beautiful  exactly,"  answered  Carl- 
ton,  surveying  the  hills  critically,  "but  cer 
tainly  very  attractive.  It  is  worth  travelling  a 
long  way  to  see,  and  I  should  think  one  would 
grow  very  fond  of  it." 

Miss  Morris  tore  the  fly-leaf  out  of  the  book, 
and  slipped  it  between  the  pages.  "May  I  keep 
it?"  she  said.  Carlton  nodded.  "And  will 
you  sign  it?"  she  asked,  smiling.  Carlton 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  laughed.  "If  you 
wish  it,"  he  answered. 

1 06 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

The  Princess  wore  a  gray  cheviot  travelling- 
dress,  as  did  her  sisters,  and  a  gray  Alpine  hat. 
She  was  leaning  back,  talking  to  the  English 
captain  who  accompanied  them,  and  laughing. 
Carlton  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  woman 
who  appealed  so  strongly  to  every  taste  of 
which  he  was  possessed.  She  seemed  so  sure  of 
herself,  so  alert,  and  yet  so  gracious,  so  easily 
entertained,  and  yet,  when  she  turned  her  eyes 
toward  the  strange,  dismal  landscape,  so  seri 
ously  intent  upon  its  sad  beauty.  The  Eng 
lish  captain  dropped  his  head,  and  with  the 
pretense  of  pulling  at  his  mustache,  covered 
his  mouth  as  he  spoke  to  her.  When  he  had 
finished  he  gazed  consciously  at  the  roof  of  the 
car,  and  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  steadily  at  the 
object  toward  which  they  had  turned  when  he 
had  ceased  speaking,  and  then,  after  a  decent 
pause,  turned  her  eyes,  as  Carlton  knew  she 
would,  toward  him. 

"He  was  telling  her  who  I  am,"  he  thought, 
"and  about  the  picture  in  the  catalogue." 

In  a  few  moments  she  turned  to  her  sister 
and  spoke  to  her,  pointing  out  at  something  in 
the  scenery,  and  the  same  pantomime  was  re 
peated,  and  again  with  the  third  sister. 

"Did  you  see  those  girls  talking  about  you, 
Mr.  Carlton?"  Miss  Morris  asked,  after  they 
had  left  the  car. 

107 


Carlton  said  it  looked  as  though  they  were. 

"Of  course  they  were,"  said  Miss  Morris. 
'That  Englishman  told  the  Princess  Aline  some 
thing  about  you,  and  then  she  told  her  sister, 
and  she  told  the  eldest  one.  It  would  be  nice 
if  they  inherit  their  father's  interest  in  painting, 
wouldn't  it?" 

"I  would  rather  have  it  degenerate  into  an 
interest  in  painters  myself,"  said  Carlton. 

Miss  Morris  discovered,  after  she  had  re 
turned  to  her  own  car,  that  she  had  left  the 
novel  where  she  had  been  sitting,  and  Carlton 
sent  Nolan  back  for  it.  It  had  slipped  to  the 
floor,  and  the  fly-leaf  upon  which  Carlton  had 
sketched  the  Princess  Aline  was  lying  face 
down  beside  it.  Nolan  picked  up  the  leaf,  and 
saw  the  picture,  and  read  the  inscription  below: 
'This  is  she.  Do  you  wonder  I  travelled  four 
thousand  miles  to  see  her?" 

He  handed  the  book  to  Miss  Morris,  and  was 
backing  out  of  the  compartment,  when  she 
stopped  him. 

"There  was  a  loose  page  in  this,  Nolan,"  she 
said.  "It's  gone;  did  you  see  it?" 

"A  loose  page,  miss?"  said  Nolan,  with  some 
concern.  "Oh,  yes,  miss;  I  was  going  to  tell 
you;  there  was  a  scrap  of  paper  blew  away 
when  I  was  passing  between  the  carriages.  Was 
it  something  you  wanted,  miss?" 

1 08 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

"Something  I  wanted!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Morris,  in  dismay. 

Carlton  laughed  easily.  "It  is  just  as  well  I 
didn't  sign  it,  after  all,"  he  said.  "I  don't  want 
to  proclaim  my  devotion  to  any  Hungarian 
gypsy  who  happens  to  read  English." 

"You  must  draw  me  another,  as  a  souvenir," 
Miss  Morris  said. 

Nolan  continued  on  through  the  length  of  the 
car  until  he  had  reached  the  one  occupied  by 
the  Hohenwalds,  where  he  waited  on  the  plat 
form  until  the  English  maid-servant  saw  him 
and  came  to  the  door  of  the  carriage. 

"What  hotel  are  your  people  going  to  stop  at 
in  Constantinople?"  Nolan  asked. 

"The  Grande-Bretagne,  I  think,"  she  an 
swered. 

'That's  right,"  said  Nolan,  approvingly. 
"That's  the  one  we  are  going  to.  I  thought  I 
would  come  and  tell  you  about  it.  And,  by  the 
way,"  he  said,  "here's  a  picture  somebody's 
made  of  your  Princess  Aline.  She  dropped  it, 
and  I  picked  it  up.  You  had  better  give  it  back 
to  her.  Well,"  he  added,  politely,  "I'm  glad 
you  are  coming  to  our  hotel  in  Constantinople; 
it's  pleasant  having  some  one  to  talk  to  who  can 
speak  your  own  tongue." 

The  girl  returned  to  the  car,  and  left  Nolan 
alone  upon  the  platform.  He  exhaled  a  long 

109 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

breath  of  suppressed  excitement,  and  then 
gazed  around  nervously  upon  the  empty  land 
scape. 

"I  fancy  that's  going  to  hurry  things  up  a 
bit,'*  he  murmured,  with  an  anxious  smile; 
"he'd  never  get  along  at  all  if  it  wasn't  for  me.'* 

For  reasons  possibly  best  understood  by  the 
German  ambassador,  the  state  of  the  Hohen- 
walds  at  Constantinople  differed  greatly  from 
that  which  had  obtained  at  the  French  capital. 
They  no  longer  came  and  went  as  they  wished, 
or  wandered  through  the  show-places  of  the  city 
like  ordinary  tourists.  There  was,  on  the  con 
trary,  not  only  a  change  in  their  manner  toward 
others,  but  there  was  an  insistence  on  their  part 
of  a  difference  in  the  attitude  of  others  toward 
themselves.  This  showed  itself  in  the  reserv 
ing  of  the  half  of  the  hotel  for  their  use,  and  in 
the  haughty  bearing  of  the  equerries,  who  ap 
peared  unexpectedly  in  magnificent  uniforms. 
The  visitors'  book  was  covered  with  the  auto 
graphs  of  all  of  the  important  people  in  the 
Turkish  capital,  and  the  Sultan's  carriages  stood 
constantly  before  the  door  of  the  hotel,  await 
ing  their  pleasure,  until  they  became  as  familiar 
a  sight  as  the  street  dogs,  or  as  cabs  in  a  hansom- 
cab  rank. 

And  in  following  out  the  programme  which 
had  been  laid  down  for  her,  the  Princess  Aline 

110 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

became  even  less  accessible  to  Carlton  than  be 
fore,  and  he  grew  desperate  and  despondent. 

"If  the  worst  comes,"  he  said  to  Miss  Morris, 
"  I  shall  tell  Nolan  to  give  an  alarm  of  fire  some 
night,  and  then  I  will  run  in  and  rescue  her 
before  they  find  out  there  is  no  fire.  Or  he 
might  frighten  the  horses  some  day,  and  give 
me  a  chance  to  stop  them.  We  might  even  wait 
until  we  reach  Greece,  and  have  her  carried  off 
by  brigands,  who  would  only  give  her  up  to 


me." 


"  There  are  no  more  brigands  in  Greece,"  said 
Miss  Morris;  "and  besides,  why  do  you  sup 
pose  they  would  only  give  her  up  to  you?*' 

"Because  they  would  be  imitation  brigands," 
said  Carlton,  "and  would  be  paid  to  give  her 
up  to  no  one  else." 

"Oh,  you  plan  very  well,"  scoffed  Miss  Mor 
ris,  "but  you  don't  do  anything." 

Carlton  was  saved  the  necessity  of  doing  any 
thing  that  same  morning,  when  the  English 
captain  in  attendance  on  the  Duke  sent  his 
card  to  Carlton's  room.  He  came,  he  explained, 
to  present  the  Prince's  compliments,  and  would 
it  be  convenient  for  Mr.  Carlton  to  meet  the 
Duke  that  afternoon?  Mr.  Carlton  suppressed 
an  unseemly  desire  to  shout,  and  said,  after  a 
moment's  consideration,  that  it  would.  He 
then  took  the  English  captain  down-stairs  to 

in 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

the  smoking-room,  and  rewarded  him  for  his 
agreeable  message. 

The  Duke  received  Carlton  in  the  afternoon, 
and  greeted  him  most  cordially,  and  with  as 
much  ease  of  manner  as  it  is  possible  for  a  man 
to  possess  who  has  never  enjoyed  the  benefits 
of  meeting  other  men  on  an  equal  footing.  He 
expressed  his  pleasure  in  knowing  an  artist  with 
whose  work  he  was  so  familiar,  and  congratu 
lated  himself  on  the  happy  accident  which  had 
brought  them  both  to  the  same  hotel. 

"  I  have  more  than  a  natural  interest  in  meet 
ing  you,"  said  the  Prince,  "and  for  a  reason 
which  you  may  or  may  not  know.  I  thought 
possibly  you  could  help  me  somewhat.  I  have 
within  the  past  few  days  come  into  the  posses 
sion  of  two  of  your  paintings;  they  are  studies, 
rather,  but  to  me  they  are  even  more  desirable 
than  the  finished  work;  and  I  am  not  correct 
in  saying  that  they  have  come  to  me  exactly, 
but  to  my  sister,  the  Princess  Aline." 

Carlton  could  not  withhold  a  certain  start  of 
surprise.  He  had  not  expected  that  his  gift 
would  so  soon  have  arrived  but  his  face  showed 
only  polite  attention. 

'The  studies  were  delivered  to  us  in  Lon 
don,"  continued  the  Duke.  "They  are  of  Lud- 
wig  the  tragedian  and  of  the  German  Prime 
Minister,  two  most  valuable  works,  and  espe- 

112 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

cially  interesting  to  us.  They  came  without  any 
note  or  message  which  would  inform  us  who  had 
sent  them,  and  when  my  people  made  inquiries, 
the  dealer  refused  to  tell  them  from  whom  they 
had  come.  He  had  been  ordered  to  forward 
them  to  Grasse,  but,  on  learning  of  our  pres 
ence  in  London,  sent  them  direct  to  our  hotel 
there.  Of  course  it  is  embarrassing  to  have  so 
valuable  a  present  from  an  anonymous  friend, 
especially  so  for  my  sister,  to  whom  they  were 
addressed,  and  I  thought  that,  besides  the  plea 
sure  of  meeting  one  of  whose  genius  I  am  so 
warm  an  admirer,  I  might  also  learn  something 
which  would  enable  me  to  discover  who  our 
friend  may  be."  He  paused,  but  as  Carlton 
said  nothing,  continued:  "As  it  is  now,  I  do 
not  feel  that  I  can  accept  the  pictures;  and  yet 
I  know  no  one  to  whom  they  can  be  returned, 
unless  I  send  them  to  the  dealer." 

"It  sounds  very  mysterious,"  said  Carlton, 
smiling;  "and  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  help  you. 
What  work  I  did  in  Germany  was  sold  in  Ber 
lin  before  I  left,  and  in  a  year  may  have  changed 
hands  several  times.  The  studies  of  which  you 
speak  are  unimportant,  and  merely  studies,  and 
could  pass  from  hand  to  hand  without  much 
record  having  been  kept  of  them;  but  person 
ally  I  am  not  able  to  give  you  any  information 
which  would  assist  you  in  tracing  them." 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

"Yes,"  said  the  Duke.  "Well,  then,  I  shall 
keep  them  until  I  can  learn  more;  and  if  we  can 
learn  nothing,  I  shall  return  them  to  the  dealer." 

Carlton  met  Miss  Morris  that  afternoon  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement.  "It's  come!"  he 
cried—  "it's  come !  I  am  to  meet  her  this  week. 
I  have  met  her  brother,  and  he  has  asked  me 
to  dine  with  them  on  Thursday  night;  that's 
the  day  before  they  leave  for  Athens;  and  he 
particularly  mentioned  that  his  sisters  would 
be  at  the  dinner,  and  that  it  would  be  a  pleasure 
to  present  me.  It  seems  that  the  eldest  paints, 
and  all  of  them  love  art  for  art's  sake,  as  their 
father  taught  them  to  do;  and,  for  all  we  know, 
he  may  make  me  court  painter,  and  I  shall  spend 
the  rest  of  my  life  at  Grasse  painting  portraits 
of  the  Princess  Aline,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two, 
and  at  all  future  ages.  And  if  he  does  give  me 
a  commission  to  paint  her,  I  can  tell  you  now 
in  confidence  that  that  picture  will  require  more 
sittings  than  any  other  picture  ever  painted  by 
man.  Her  hair  will  have  turned  white  by  the 
time  it  is  finished,  and  the  gown  she  started  to 
pose  in  will  have  become  forty  years  behind  the 
fashion !" 

On  the  morning  following,  Carlton  and  Mrs. 
Downs  and  her  niece,  with  all  the  tourists  in 
Constantinople,  were  placed  in  open  carriages 
by  their  dragomans,  and  driven  in  a  long  pro- 

114 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

cession  to  the  Seraglio  to  see  the  Sultan's  trea 
sures.  Those  of  them  who  had  waited  two 
weeks  for  this  chance  looked  aggrieved  at  the 
more  fortunate  who  had  come  at  the  eleventh 
hour  on  the  last  night's  steamer,  and  seemed  to 
think  these  latter  had  attained  the  privilege 
without  sufficient  effort.  The  ministers  of  the 
different  legations — as  is  the  harmless  custom 
of  such  gentlemen — had  impressed  every  one 
for  whom  they  had  obtained  permission  to  see 
the  treasures  with  the  great  importance  of  the 
service  rendered,  and  had  succeeded  in  making 
every  one  feel  either  especially  honored  or  es 
pecially  uncomfortable  at  having  given  them 
so  much  trouble.  This  sense  of  obligation,  and 
the  fact  that  the  dragomans  had  assured  the 
tourists  that  they  were  for  the  time  being  the 
guests  of  the  Sultan,  awed  and  depressed  most 
of  the  visitors  to  such  an  extent  that  their  man 
ner  in  the  long  procession  of  carriages  suggested 
a  funeral  cortege,  with  the  Hohenwalds  in  front, 
escorted  by  Beys  and  Pashas,  as  chief  mourn 
ers.  The  procession  halted  at  the  palace,  and 
the  guests  of  the  Sultan  were  received  by  nu 
merous  effendis  in  single-button  frock-coats 
and  freshly  ironed  fezzes,  who  served  them  with 
glasses  of  water,  and  a  huge  bowl  of  some  sweet 
stuff,  of  which  every  one  was  supposed  to  take 
a  spoonful.  There  was  at  first  a  general  fear 

115 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

among  the  Cook's  tourists  that  there  would 
not  be  enough  of  this  to  go  round,  which  was 
succeeded  by  a  greater  anxiety  lest  they  should 
be  served  twice.  Some  of  the  tourists  put  the 
sweet  stuff  in  their  mouths  direct  and  licked  the 
spoon,  and  others  dropped  it  off  the  spoon  into 
the  glass  of  water,  and  stirred  it  about  and 
sipped  at  it,  and  no  one  knew  who  had  done  the 
right  thing,  not  even  those  who  happened  to 
have  done  it.  Carlton  and  Miss  Morris  went 
out  onto  the  terrace  while  this  ceremony  was 
going  forward,  and  looked  out  over  the  great 
panorama  of  waters,  with  the  Sea  of  Marmora 
on  one  side,  the  Golden  Horn  on  the  other,  and 
the  Bosporus  at  their  feet.  The  sun  was  shin 
ing  mildly,  and  the  waters  were  stirred  by  great 
and  little  vessels;  before  them  on  the  opposite 
bank  rose  the  dark  green  cypresses  which  marked 
the  grim  cemetery  of  England's  dead,  and 
behind  them  were  the  great  turtle-backed 
mosques  and  pencil-like  minarets  of  the  two 
cities,  and  close  at  hand  the  mosaic  walls  and 
beautiful  gardens  of  Constantine. 

"Your  friends  the  Hohenwalds  don't  seem  to 
know  you  this  morning,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  yes;  he  spoke  to  me  as  we  left  the 
hotel,"  Carlton  answered.  "But  they  are  on 
parade  at  present.  There  are  a  lot  of  their  coun 
trymen  among  the  tourists." 

116 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

"I  feel  rather  sorry  for  them,"  Miss  Morris 
said,  looking  at  the  group  with  an  amused 
smile.  "Etiquette  cuts  them  off  from  so  much 
innocent  amusement.  Now,  you  are  a  gentle 
man,  and  the  Duke  presumably  is,  and  why 
should  you  not  go  over  and  say,  'Your  High 
ness,  I  wish  you  would  present  me  to  your  sis 
ter,  whom  I  am  to  meet  at  dinner  to-morrow 
night.  I  admire  her  very  much/  and  then  you 
could  point  out  the  historical  features  to  her, 
and  show  her  where  they  have  finished  off  a 
blue-and-green-tiled  wall  with  a  rusty  tin  roof, 
and  make  pretty  speeches  to  her.  It  wouldn't 
hurt  her,  and  it  would  do  you  a  lot  of  good. 
The  simplest  way  is  always  the  best  way,  it 
seems  to  me." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  said  Carlton.  "Sup 
pose  he  came  over  here  and  said:  'Carlton,  I 
wish  you  would  present  me  to  your  young  Ameri 
can  friend.  I  admire  her  very  much.'  I  would 
probably  say:  'Do  you?  Well,  you  will  have 
to  wait  until  she  expresses  some  desire  to  meet 
you.'  No;  etiquette  is  all  right  in  itself,  only 
some  people  don't  know  its  laws,  and  that  is 
the  one  instance  to  my  mind  where  ignorance 
of  the  law  is  no  excuse." 

Carlton  left  Miss  Morris  talking  with  the 
Secretary  of  the  American  Legation,  and  went 
to  look  for  Mrs.  Downs.  When  he  returned  he 

117 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

found  that  the  young  Secretary  had  apparently 
asked  and  obtained  permission  to  present  the 
Duke's  equerries  and  some  of  his  diplomatic 
confreres,  who  were  standing  now  about  her  in 
an  attentive  semicircle,  and  pointing  out  the 
different  palaces  and  points  of  interest.  Carl- 
ton  was  somewhat  disturbed  at  the  sight,  and 
reproached  himself  with  not  having  presented 
any  one  to  her  before.  He  was  sure  now  that 
she  must  have  had  a  dull  time  of  it;  but  he 
wished,  nevertheless,  that  if  she  was  to  meet 
other  men,  the  Secretary  had  allowed  him  to 
act  as  master  of  ceremonies. 

"I  suppose  you  know,"  that  gentleman  was 
saying  as  Carlton  came  up,  "that  when  you 
pass  by  Abydos,  on  the  way  to  Athens,  you  will 
see  where  Leander  swam  the  Hellespont  to  meet 
Hero.  That  little  white  light-house  is  called 
Leander  in  honor  of  him.  It  makes  rather  an 
interesting  contrast — does  it  not? — to  think  of 
that  chap  swimming  along  in  the  dark,  and  then 
to  find  that  his  monument  to-day  is  a  light 
house,  with  revolving  lamps  and  electric  ap 
pliances,  and  with  ocean  tramps  and  bridges 
and  men-of-war  around  it.  We  have  improved 
in  our  mechanism  since  then,"  he  said,  with  an 
air,  "but  I  am  afraid  the  men  of  to-day  don't 
do  that  sort  of  thing  for  the  women  of  to-day." 

"Then  it  is  the  men  who  have  deteriorated," 
118 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

said  one  of  the  equerries,  bowing  to  Miss  Mor 
ris;  "it  is  certainly  not  the  women." 

The  two  Americans  looked  at  Miss  Morris 
to  see  how  she  received  this,  but  she  smiled 
good-naturedly. 

"  I  know  a  man  who  did  more  than  that  for  a 
woman,"  said  Carlton,  innocently.  "He  crossed 
an  ocean  and  several  countries  to  meet  her,  and 
he  hasn't  met  her  yet." 

Miss  Morris  looked  at  him  and  laughed,  in 
the  safety  that  no  one  understood  him  but  her 
self. 

"But  he  ran  no  danger,"  she  answered. 

"He  didn't,  didn't  he?"  said  Carlton,  look 
ing  at  her  closely  and  laughing.  "I  think  he 
was  in  very  great  danger  all  the  time." 

"Shocking!"  said  Miss  Morris,  reprovingly; 
"and  in  her  very  presence,  too."  She  knitted 
her  brows  and  frowned  at  him.  "I  really  be 
lieve  if  you  were  in  prison  you  would  make 
pretty  speeches  to  the  jailer's  daughter." 

'Yes,"  said  Carlton,  boldly,  "or  even  to  a 
woman  who  was  a  prisoner  herself." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said, 
turning  away  from  him  to  the  others.  "How 
far  was  it  that  Leander  swam?"  she  asked. 

The  English  captain  pointed  out  two  spots  on 
either  bank,  and  said  that  the  shores  of  Abydos 
were  a  little  over  that  distance  apart. 

119 


"As  far  as  that?"  said  Miss  Morris.  "How 
much  he  must  have  cared  for  her !"  She  turned 
to  Carlton  for  an  answer. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  He  was  mea 
suring  the  distance  between  the  two  points  with 
his  eyes. 

"I  said  how  much  he  must  have  cared  for 
her !  You  wouldn't  swim  that  far  for  a  girl." 

"For  a  girl!"  laughed  Carlton,  quickly.  "I 
was  just  thinking  I  would  do  it  for  fifty  dol 
lars." 

The  English  captain  gave  a  hasty  glance  at 
the  distance  he  had  pointed  out,  and  then 
turned  to  Carlton.  "I'll  take  you,"  he  said, 
seriously.  "I'll  bet  you  twenty  pounds  you 
can't  do  it."  There  was  an  easy  laugh  at  Carl- 
ton's  expense,  but  he  only  shook  his  head  and 
smiled. 

"Leave  him  alone,  captain,"  said  the  Ameri 
can  Secretary.  "It  seems  to  me  I  remember  a 
story  of  Mr.  Carlton's  swimming  out  from 
Navesink  to  meet  an  ocean  liner.  It  was  about 
three  miles,  and  the  ocean  was  rather  rough, 
and  when  they  slowed  up  he  asked  them  if  it 
was  raining  in  London  when  they  left.  They 
thought  he  was  mad." 

"Is  that  true,  Carlton?"  asked  the  English 
man. 

"Something  like  it,"  said  the  American,  "ex- 
120 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

cept  that  I  didn't  ask  them  if  it  was  raining  in 
London.  I  asked  them  for  a  drink,  and  it  was 
they  who  were  mad.  They  thought  I  was  drown 
ing,  and  slowed  up  to  lower  a  boat,  and  when 
they  found  out  I  was  just  swimming  around 
they  were  naturally  angry." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  didn't  bet  with  me," 
said  the  captain,  with  a  relieved  laugh. 

That  evening,  as  the  Englishman  was  leaving 
the  smoking-room,  and  after  he  had  bidden 
Carlton  good-night,  he  turned  back  and  said: 
"I  didn't  like  to  ask  you  before  those  men  this 
morning,  but  there  was  something  about  your 
swimming  adventure  I  wanted  to  know:  Did 
you  get  that  drink?" 

"I  did,"  said  Carlton— "in  a  bottle.  They 
nearly  broke  my  shoulder." 

As  Carlton  came  into  the  breakfast-room  on 
the  morning  of  the  day  he  was  to  meet  the  Prin 
cess  Aline  at  dinner,  Miss  Morris  was  there 
alone,  and  he  sat  down  at  the  same  table,  oppo 
site  to  her.  She  looked  at  him  critically,  and 
smiled  with  evident  amusement. 

'To-day/ '     she    quoted,    solemnly,       'the 
birthday  of  my  life  has  come.' ' 

Carlton  poured  out  his  coffee,  with  a  shake  of 
his  head,  and  frowned.  "Oh,  you  can  laugh," 
he  said,  "but  I  didn't  sleep  at  all  last  night.  I 
lay  awake  making  speeches  to  her.  I  know  they 

121 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

are  going  to  put  me  between  the  wrong  sisters," 
he  complained,  "or  next  to  one  of  those  old 
ladies-in-waiting,  or  whatever  they  are." 

"How  are  you  going  to  begin?"  said  Miss 
Morris.  "Will  you  tell  her  you  have  followed 
her  from  London — or  from  New  York,  rather— 
that  you  are  young  Lochinvar,  who  came  out 
of  the  West,  and " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Carlton,  meditatively, 
"just  how  I  shall  begin;  but  I  know  the  curtain 
is  going  to  rise  promptly  at  eight  o'clock — about 
the  time  the  soup  comes  on,  I  think.  I  don't 
see  how  she  can  help  but  be  impressed  a  little 
bit.  It  isn't  every  day  a  man  hurries  around 
the  globe  on  account  of  a  girl's  photograph;  and 
she  is  beautiful,  isn't  she?" 

Miss  Morris  nodded  her  head  encouragingly. 

"Do  you  know,  sometimes,"  said  Carlton, 
glancing  over  his  shoulders  to  see  if  the  waiters 
were  out  of  hearing,  "I  fancy  she  has  noticed 
me.  Once  or  twice  I  have  turned  my  head  in 
her  direction  without  meaning  to,  and  found 
her  looking — well,  looking  my  way,  at  least. 
Don't  you  think  that  is  a  good  sign?"  he  asked, 
eagerly. 

"It  depends  on  what  you  call  a  'good  sign,' ' 
said  Miss  Morris,  judicially.    "  It  is  a  sign  you're 
good  to  look  at,  if  that's  what  you  want.    But 
you  probably  know  that  already,  and  it's  noth- 

122 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

ing  to  your  credit.  It  certainly  isn't  a  sign  that 
a  person  cares  for  you  because  she  prefers  to 
look  at  your  profile  rather  than  at  what  the 
dragomans  are  trying  to  show  her." 

Carlton  drew  himself  up  stiffly.  "If  you 
knew  your  Alice  better,"  he  said,  with  severity, 
"you  would  understand  that  it  is  not  polite  to 
make  personal  remarks.  I  ask  you,  as  my  con 
fidante,  if  you  think  she  has  noticed  me,  and 
you  make  fun  of  my  looks !  That's  not  the 
part  of  a  confidante." 

"Noticed  you!"  laughed  Miss  Morris,  scorn 
fully.  "How  could  she  help  it?  You  are  al 
ways  in  the  way.  You  are  at  the  door  when 
ever  they  go  out  or  come  in,  and  when  we  are 
visiting  mosques  and  palaces  you  are  invariably 
looking  at  her  instead  of  the  tombs  and  things, 
with  a  wistful  far-away  look,  as  though  you  saw 
a  vision.  The  first  time  you  did  it,  after  you 
had  turned  away  I  saw  her  feel  to  see  if  her  hair 
was  all  right.  You  quite  embarrassed  her." 

"I  didn't — I  don't!"  stammered  Carlton, 
indignantly.  "I  wouldn't  be  so  rude.  Oh,  I 
see  I'll  have  to  get  another  confidante;  you  are 
most  unsympathetic  and  unkind." 

But  Miss  Morris  showed  her  sympathy  later 
in  the  day,  when  Carlton  needed  it  sorely;  for 
the  dinner  toward  which  he  had  looked  with 
such  pleasurable  anticipations  and  loverlike 

123 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

misgivings  did  not  take  place.  The  Sultan,  so 
the  equerry  informed  him,  had,  with  Oriental 
unexpectedness,  invited  the  Duke  to  dine  that 
night  at  the  Palace,  and  the  Duke,  much  to  his 
expressed  regret,  had  been  forced  to  accept  what 
was  in  the  nature  of  a  command.  He  sent  word 
by  his  equerry,  however,  that  the  dinner  to 
Mr.  Carlton  was  only  a  pleasure  deferred,  and 
that  at  Athens,  where  he  understood  Carlton 
was  also  going,  he  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  entertaining  him  and  making  him  known  to 
his  sisters. 

"He  is  a  selfish  young  egoist,"  said  Carlton 
to  Mrs.  Downs.  "As  if  I  cared  whether  he  was 
at  the  dinner  or  not !  Why  couldn't  he  have 
fixed  it  so  I  might  have  dined  with  his  sisters 
alone?  We  would  never  have  missed  him.  I'll 
never  meet  her  now.  I  know  it;  I  feel  it.  Fate 
is  against  me.  Now  I  will  have  to  follow  them 
on  to  Athens,  and  something  will  turn  up  there 
to  keep  me  away  from  her.  You'll  see;  you'll 
see.  I  wonder  where  they  go  from  Athens?" 

The  Hohenwalds  departed  the  next  morning, 
and  as  their  party  had  engaged  all  the  state 
rooms  in  the  little  Italian  steamer,  Carlton  was 
forced  to  wait  over  for  the  next.  He  was  very 
gloomy  over  his  disappointment,  and  Miss  Mor 
ris  did  her  best  to  amuse  him.  She  and  her 
aunt  were  never  idle  now,  and  spent  the  last 

124 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

few  days  of  their  stay  in  Constantinople  in  the 
bazaars  or  in  excursions  up  and  down  the  river. 

"These  are  my  last  days  of  freedom,"  Miss 
Morris  said  to  him  once,  "and  I  mean  to  make 
the  most  of  them.  After  this  there  will  be  no 
more  travelling  for  me.  And  I  love  it  so !"  she 
added,  wistfully. 

Carlton  made  no  comment,  but  he  felt  a  cer 
tain  contemptuous  pity  for  the  young  man  in 
America  who  had  required  such  a  sacrifice. 
"She  is  too  nice  a  girl  to  let  him  know  she  is 
making  a  sacrifice,"  he  thought,  "or  giving  up 
anything  for  him,  but  she  won't  forget  it."  And 
Carlton  again  commended  himself  for  not  hav 
ing  asked  any  woman  to  make  any  sacrifices 
for  him. 

They  left  Constantinople  for  Athens  one 
moonlight  night,  three  days  after  the  Hohen- 
walds  had  taken  their  departure,  and  as  the 
evening  and  the  air  were  warm,  they  remained 
upon  the  upper  deck  until  the  boat  had  entered 
the  Dardanelles.  There  were  few  passengers, 
and  Mrs.  Downs  went  below  early,  leaving  Miss 
Morris  and  Carlton  hanging  over  the  rail,  and 
looking  down  upon  a  band  of  Hungarian  gypsies, 
who  were  playing  the  weird  music  of  their 
country  on  the  deck  beneath  them.  The  low, 
receding  hills  lay  close  on  either  hand,  and  ran 
back  so  sharply  from  the  narrow  waterway  that 

125 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

they  seemed  to  shut  in  the  boat  from  the  world 
beyond.  The  moonlight  showed  a  little  mud 
fort  or  a  thatched  cottage  on  the  bank  fantas 
tically,  as  through  a  mist,  and  from  time  to 
time  as  they  sped  forward  they  saw  the  camp- 
fire  of  a  sentry,  and  his  shadow  as  he  passed 
between  it  and  them,  or  stopped  to  cover  it  with 
wood.  The  night  was  so  still  that  they  could 
hear  the  waves  in  the  steamer's  wake  washing 
up  over  the  stones  on  either  shore,  and  the  muf 
fled  beat  of  the  engines  echoed  back  from  either 
side  of  the  valley  through  which  they  passed. 
There  was  a  great  lantern  hanging  midway  from 
the  mast,  and  shining  down  upon  the  lower  deck. 
It  showed  a  group  of  Greeks,  Turks,  and  Ar 
menians,  in  strange  costumes,  sleeping,  huddled 
together  in  picturesque  confusion  over  the  bare 
boards,  or  wide-awake  and  voluble,  smoking 
and  chatting  together  in  happy  company.  The 
music  of  the  tizanes  rose  in  notes  of  passionate 
ecstasy  and  sharp,  unexpected  bursts  of  melody. 
It  ceased  and  began  again,  as  though  the  mu 
sicians  were  feeling  their  way,  and  then  burst 
out  once  more  into  shrill  defiance.  It  stirred 
Carlton  with  a  strange,  turbulent  unrest.  From 
the  banks  the  night  wind  brought  soft  odors 
of  fresh  earth  and  of  heavy  foliage. 

'The  music  of  different  countries,"  Carlton 
said  at  last,  "means  many  different  things.    But 

126 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

it  seems  to  me  that  the  music  of  Hungary  is 
the  music  of  love." 

Miss  Morris  crossed  her  arms  comfortably  on 
the  rail,  and  he  heard  her  laugh  softly.  "Oh 
no,  it  is  not,"  she  said,  undisturbed.  "It  is  a 
passionate,  gusty,  heady  sort  of  love,  if  you 
like,  but  it's  no  more  like  the  real  thing  than 
burgundy  is  like  clear,  cold,  good  water.  It's 
not  the  real  thing  at  all." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Carlton,  meekly. 
"Of  course  I  don't  know  anything  about  it." 
He  had  been  waked  out  of  the  spell  which  the 
night  and  the  tizanes  had  placed  upon  him  as 
completely  as  though  some  one  had  shaken  him 
sharply  by  the  shoulder.  "I  bow,"  he  said,  "to 
your  superior  knowledge.  I  know  nothing  about 
it." 

"No;  you  are  quite  right.  I  don't  believe 
you  do  know  anything  about  it,"  said  the  girl, 
"or  you  wouldn't  have  made  such  a  compari 
son." 

"Do  you  know,  Miss  Morris,"  said  Carlton, 
seriously,  "that  I  believe  I'm  not  able  to  care 
for  a  woman  as  other  men  do — at  least  as  some 
men  do;  it's  just  lacking  in  me,  and  always  will 
be  lacking.  It's  like  an  ear  for  music;  if  you 
haven't  got  it,  if  it  isn't  born  in  you,  you'll 
never  have  it.  It's  not  a  thing  you  can  culti 
vate,  and  I  feel  that  it's  not  only  a  misfortune, 

127 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

but  a  fault.  Now  I  honestly  believe  that  I  care 
more  for  the  Princess  Aline,  whom  I  have  never 
met,  than  many  other  men  could  care  for  her 
if  they  knew  her  well ;  but  what  they  feel  would 
last,  and  I  have  doubts  from  past  experience 
that  what  I  feel  would.  I  don't  doubt  it  while 
it  exists,  but  it  never  does  exist  long,  and  so  I 
am  afraid  it  is  going  to  be  with  me  to  the  end 
of  the  chapter."  He  paused  for  a  moment,  but 
the  girl  did  not  answer.  "I  am  speaking  in 
earnest  now,"  he  added,  with  a  rueful  laugh. 

"I  see  you  are,"  she  replied,  briefly.  She 
seemed  to  be  considering  his  condition  as  he 
had  described  it  to  her,  and  he  did  not  interrupt 
her.  From  below  them  came  the  notes  of  the 
waltz  the  gypsies  played.  It  was  full  of  the 
undercurrent  of  sadness  that  a  waltz  should 
have,  and  filled  out  what  Carlton  said  as  the 
music  from  the  orchestra  in  a  theatre  heightens 
the  effect  without  interrupting  the  words  of  the 
actor  on  the  stage. 

"It  is  strange,"  said  Miss  Morris.  "I  should 
have  thought  you  were  a  man  who  would  care 
very  much  and  in  just  the  right  way.  But  I 
don't  believe  really — I'm  sorry,  but  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  do  know  what  love  means  at  all." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  as  bad  as  that,"  said  Carlton. 
"I  think  I  know  what  it  is,  and  what  it  means 
to  other  people,  but  I  can't  feel  it  myself.  The 

128 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

best  idea  I  ever  got  of  it — the  thing  that  made  it 
clear  to  me — was  a  line  in  a  play.  It  seemed  to 
express  it  better  than  any  of  the  love-poems  I 
ever  read.  It  was  in  '  Shenandoah.' ' 

Miss  Morris  laughed. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Carlton. 

"I  beg  yours,"  she  said.  "It  was  only  the 
incongruity  that  struck  me.  It  seemed  so  odd 
to  be  quoting  'Shenandoah'  here  in  the  Dar 
danelles,  with  these  queer  people  below  us  and 
ancient  Troy  on  one  hand — it  took  me  by  sur 
prise,  that's  all.  Please  go  on.  What  was  it 
impressed  you?" 

"Well,  the  hero  in  the  play,"  said  Carlton,  "is 
an  officer  in  the  Northern  army,  and  he  is  lying 
wounded  in  a  house  near  the  Shenandoah  Val 
ley.  The  girl  he  loves  lives  in  this  house,  and 
is  nursing  him;  but  she  doesn't  love  him,  be 
cause  she  sympathizes  with  the  South.  At  least 
she  says  she  doesn't  love  him.  Both  armies  are 
forming  in  the  valley  below  to  begin  the  battle, 
and  he  sees  his  own  regiment  hurrying  past  to 
join  them.  So  he  gets  up  and  staggers  out  on 
the  stage,  which  is  set  to  show  the  yard  in  front 
of  the  farm-house,  and  he  calls  for  his  horse  to 
follow  his  men.  Then  the  girl  runs  out  and  begs 
him  not  to  go;  and  he  asks  why,  what  does  it 
matter  to  her  whether  he  goes  or  not?  And 
she  says,  'But  I  cannot  let  you  go;  you  may  be 

129 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

killed.'  And  he  says  again,  'What  is  that  to 
you?'  And  she  says:  'It  is  everything  to  me. 
I  love  you.'  And  he  makes  a  grab  at  her  with 
his  wounded  arm,  and  at  that  instant  both  ar 
mies  open  fire  in  the  valley  below,  and  the 
whole  earth  and  sky  seem  to  open  and  shut, 
and  the  house  rocks.  The  girl  rushes  at  him 
and  crowds  up  against  his  breast,  and  cries: 
'What  is  that?  Oh,  what  is  that?'  and  he 
holds  her  tight  to  him  and  laughs,  and  says: 
'  That  ?  That's  only  a  battle — you  love  me.' ' 

Miss  Morris  looked  steadfastly  over  the  side 
of  the  boat  at  the  waters  rushing  by  beneath, 
smiling  to  herself.  Then  she  turned  her  face 
toward  Carlton,  and  nodded  her  head  at  him. 
"I  think,"  she  said,  dryly,  "that  you  have  a 
fair  idea  of  what  it  means;  a  rough  working- 
plan  at  least — enough  to  begin  on." 

"I  said  that  I  knew  what  it  meant  to  others. 
I  am  complaining  that  I  cannot  feel  it  myself." 

"That  will  come  in  time,  no  doubt,"  she  said, 
encouragingly,  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur; 
"and  let  me  tell  you,"  she  added,  "that  it  will 
be  all  the  better  for  the  woman  that  you  have 
doubted  yourself  so  long." 

"You  think  so?"  said  Carlton,  eagerly. 

Miss  Morris  laughed  at  his  earnestness,  and 
left  him  to  go  below  to  ask  her  aunt  to  join 
them,  but  Mrs.  Downs  preferred  to  read  in  the 

130 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

saloon,  and  Miss  Morris  returned  alone.  She 
had  taken  off  her  Eton  jacket  and  pulled  on  a 
heavy  blue  football  sweater,  and  over  this  a 
reefer.  The  jersey  clung  to  her  and  showed 
the  lines  of  her  figure,  and  emphasized  the  free 
dom  and  grace  with  which  she  made  every 
movement.  She  looked,  as  she  walked  at  his 
side  with  her  hands  in  the  pockets  of  her  coat  and 
with  a  flat  sailor  hat  on  her  head,  like  a  tall, 
handsome  boy;  but  when  they  stopped  and 
stood  where  the  light  fell  full  on  her  hair  and  the 
exquisite  coloring  of  her  skin,  Carlton  thought 
her  face  had  never  seemed  so  delicate  or  fair  as 
it  did  then,  rising  from  the  collar  of  the  rough 
jersey,  and  contrasted  with  the  hat  and  coat  of  a 
man's  attire.  They  paced  the  deck  for  an  hour 
later,  until  every  one  else  had  left  it,  and  at 
midnight  were  still  loath  to  give  up  the  beauti 
ful  night  and  the  charm  of  their  strange  sur 
roundings.  There  were  long  silent  places  in 
their  talk,  during«which  Carlton  tramped  beside 
her  with  his  head  half  turned,  looking  at  her 
and  noting  with  an  artist's  eye  the  free,  light 
step,  the  erect  carriage,  and  the  unconscious 
beauty  of  her  face.  The  captain  of  the  steamer 
joined  them  after  midnight,  and  falling  into 
step,  pointed  out  to  Miss  Morris  where  great 
cities  had  stood,  where  others  lay  buried,  and 
where  beyond  the  hills  were  the  almost  inacces- 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

sible  monasteries  of  the  Greek  Church.  The 
moonlight  turned  the  banks  into  shadowy  sub 
stances,  in  which  the  ghosts  of  former  days 
seemed  to  make  a  part;  and  spurred  by  the 
young  girl's  interest,  the  Italian,  to  entertain 
her,  called  up  all  the  legends  of  mythology  and 
the  stories  of  Roman  explorers  and  Turkish 
conquerors. 

"I  turn  in  now,"  he  said,  after  Miss  Morris 
had  left  them.  "A  most  charming  young  lady. 
Is  it  not  so?"  he  added,  waving  his  cigarette 
in  a  gesture  which  expressed  the  ineffectiveness 
of  the  adjective. 

"Yes,    very,"    said    Carlton.      "Good-night, 

•   »> 
sir. 

He  turned,  and  leaned  with  both  elbows  on 
the  rail,  and  looked  out  at  the  misty  banks,  puff 
ing  at  his  cigar.  Then  he  dropped  it  hissing  into 
the  water,  and,  stifling  a  yawn,  looked  up  and 
down  the  length  of  the  deserted  deck.  It 
seemed  particularly  bare  and  empty. 

"What  a  pity  she's  engaged!"  Carlton  said. 
"She  loses  so  much  by  it." 

They  steamed  slowly  into  the  harbor  of  the 
Piraeus  at  an  early  hour  the  next  morning,  with 
a  flotilla  of  small  boats  filled  with  shrieking  por 
ters  and  hotel-runners  at  the  sides.  These  men 
tossed  their  painters  to  the  crew,  and  crawled  up 
them  like  a  boarding  crew  of  pirates,  running 

132 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

wildly  about  the  deck,  and  laying  violent  hands 
on  any  piece  of  baggage  they  saw  unclaimed. 
The  passengers'  trunks  had  been  thrown  out 
in  a  heap  on  the  deck,  and  Nolan  and  Carlton 
were  clambering  over  them,  looking  for  their 
own  effects,  while  Miss  Morris  stood  below,  as 
far  out  of  the  confusion  as  she  could  place  her 
self,  and  pointed  out  the  different  pieces  that 
belonged  to  her.  As  she  stood  there  one  of  the 
hotel-runners,  a  burly,  greasy  Levantine  in  pur 
suit  of  a  possible  victim,  shouldered  her  inten 
tionally  and  roughly  out  of  the  way.  He  shoved 
her  so  sharply  that  she  lost  her  balance  and  fell 
back  against  the  rail.  Carlton  saw  what  had 
happened,  and  made  a  flying  leap  from  the  top 
of  the  pile  of  trunks,  landing  beside  her,  and  in 
time  to  seize  the  escaping  offender  by  the  col 
lar.  He  jerked  him  back  off  his  feet. 

"How  dare  you—  '  he  began. 

But  he  did  not  finish.  He  felt  the  tips  of  Miss 
Morris's  fingers  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  her 
voice  saying,  in  an  annoyed  tone:  "Don't; 
please  don't."  And,  to  his  surprise,  his  fingers 
lost  their  grip  on  the  man's  shirt,  his  arms 
dropped  at  his  side,  and  his  blood  began  to  flow 
calmly  again  through  his  veins.  Carlton  was 
aware  that  he  had  a  very  quick  temper.  He 
was  always  engaged  in  street  rows,  as  he  called 
them,  with  men  who,  he  thought,  had  imposed 

133 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

on  him  or  on  some  one  else,  and  though  he  was 
always  ashamed  of  himself  later,  his  temper 
had  never  been  satisfied  without  a  blow  or  an 
apology.  Women  had  also  touched  him  before, 
and  possibly  with  a  greater  familiarity;  but 
these  had  stirred  him,  not  quieted  him;  and 
men  who  had  laid  detaining  hands  on  him  had 
had  them  beaten  down  for  their  pains.  But 
this  girl  had  merely  touched  him  gently,  and 
he  had  been  made  helpless.  It  was  most  per 
plexing;  and  while  the  custom-house  officials 
were  passing  his  luggage,  he  found  himself  rub 
bing  his  arm  curiously,  as  though  it  were  numb, 
and  looking  down  at  it  with  an  amused  smile. 
He  did  not  comment  on  the  incident,  although 
he  smiled  at  the  recollection  of  his  prompt 
obedience  several  times  during  the  day.  But 
as  he  was  stepping  into  the  cab  to  drive  to 
Athens,  he  saw  the  offending  ruffian  pass,  drip 
ping  with  water,  and  muttering  bitter  curses. 
When  he  saw  Carlton  he  disappeared  instantly 
in  the  crowd.  Carlton  stepped  over  to  where 
Nolan  sat  beside  the  driver  on  the  box.  "No- 
Ian,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "isn't  that  the  fel 
low  who " 

"Yes,    sir,"    said    Nolan,    touching   his    hat 
gravely.     "He  was  pulling  a  valise  one  way, 
and  the  gentleman  that  owned  it,  sir,  was  pull 
ing  it  the  other,  and  the  gentleman  let  go  sud- 

134 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

den,  and  the  Italian  went  over  backward  off 
the  pier." 

Carlton  smiled  grimly  with  secret  satisfac 
tion. 

"Nolan,"  he  said,  "you're  not  telling  the 
truth.  You  did  it  yourself."  Nolan  touched 
his  cap  and  coughed  consciously.  There  had 
been  no  detaining  fingers  on  Nolan's  arm. 


135 


Ill 


"You  are  coming  now,  Miss  Morris,"  ex 
claimed  Carlton  from  the  front  of  the  carriage 
in  which  they  were  moving  along  the  sunny 
road  to  Athens,  "into  a  land  where  one  restores 
his  lost  illusions.  Anybody  who  wishes  to  get 
back  his  belief  in  beautiful  things  should  come 
here  to  do  it,  just  as  he  would  go  to  a  German 
sanatorium  to  build  up  his  nerves  or  his  appe 
tite.  You  have  only  to  drink  in  the  atmosphere 
and  you  are  cured.  I  know  no  better  antidote 
than  Athens  for  a  siege  of  cable-cars  and  muddy 
asphalt  pavements  and  a  course  of  *  Robert 
Elsmeres'  and  the  'Heavenly  Twins.'  Wait 
until  you  see  the  statues  of  the  young  athletes 
in  the  Museum,"  he  cried,  enthusiastically, 
"and  get  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  sky  back  of 
Mount  Hymettus,  and  the  moonlight  some 
evening  on  the  Acropolis,  and  you'll  be  con 
vinced  that  nothing  counts  for  much  in  this 
world  but  health  and  straight  limbs,  and  tall 
marble  pillars,  and  eyes  trained  to  see  only 
what  is  beautiful.  Give  people  a  love  for  beauty 
and  a  respect  for  health,  Miss  Morris,  and  the 
result  is  going  to  be,  what  they  once  had  here, 

136 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

the  best  art  and  the  greatest  writers  and  sat 
irists  and  poets.  The  same  audience  that  ap 
plauded  Euripides  and  Sophocles  in  the  open 
theatre  used  to  cross  the  road  the  same  day  to 
applaud  the  athletes  who  ran  naked  in  the 
Olympian  games,  and  gave  them  as  great  honor. 
I  came  here  once  on  a  walking  tour  with  a  chap 
who  wasn't  making  as  much  of  himself  as  he 
should  have  done,  and  he  went  away  a  changed 
man,  and  became  a  personage  in  the  world,  and 
you  would  never  guess  what  it  was  that  did  it. 
He  saw  a  statue  of  one  of  the  Greek  gods  in  the 
Museum  which  showed  certain  muscles  that  he 
couldn't  find  in  his  own  body,  and  he  told  me  he 
was  going  to  train  down  until  they  did  show; 
and  he  stopped  drinking  and  loafing  to  do  it, 
and  took  to  exercising  and  working;  and  by  the 
time  the  muscles  showed  out  clear  and  strong 
he  was  so  keen  over  life  that  he  wanted  to  make 
the  most  of  it,  and,  as  I  said,  he  has  done  it. 

That's  what  a  respect  for  his  own  body  did  for 

h» 
im. 

The  carriage  stopped  at  the  hotel  on  one  side 
of  the  public  square  of  Athens,  with  the  palace 
and  its  gardens  blocking  one  end,  and  yellow 
houses  with  red  roofs,  and  gay  awnings  over  the 
cafes,  surrounding  it.  It  was  a  bright  sunny 
day,  and  the  city  was  clean  and  cool  and  pretty. 

"Breakfast?"  exclaimed  Miss  Morris,  in  an- 
J37 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

swer  to  Carlton's  inquiry;  "yes,  I  suppose  so, 
but  I  won't  feel  safe  until  I  have  my  feet  on  that 
rock."  She  was  standing  on  the  steps  of  the 
hotel,  looking  up  with  expectant,  eager  eyes  at 
the  great  Acropolis  above  the  city. 

"  It  has  been  there  for  a  long  time  now,"  sug 
gested  Carlton,  "and  I  think  you  can  risk  its 
being  there  for  a  half-hour  longer." 

"Well,"  she  said,  reluctantly,  "but  I  don't 
wish  to  lose  this  chance.  There  might  be  an 
earthquake,  for  instance." 

"We  are  likely  to  see  them  this  morning,"  said 
Carlton,  as  he  left  the  hotel  with  the  ladies  and 
drove  toward  the  Acropolis.  "Nolan  has  been 
interviewing  the  English  maid,  and  she  tells 
him  they  spend  the  greater  part  of  their  time 
up  there  on  the  rock.  They  are  living  very  sim 
ply  here,  as  they  did  in  Paris;  that  is,  for  the 
present.  On  Wednesday  the  King  gives  a  din 
ner  and  a  reception  in  their  honor." 

"When  does  your  dinner  come  off?"  asked 
Miss  Morris. 

"Never,"  said  Carlton,  grimly. 

"One  of  the  reasons  why  I  like  to  come  back 
to  Athens  so  much,"  said  Mrs.  Downs,  "is  be 
cause  there  are  so  few  other  tourists  here  to 
spoil  the  local  color  for  you,  and  there  are  al 
most  as  few  guides  as  tourists,  so  that  you  can 

138 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

wander  around  undisturbed  and  discover  things 
for  yourself.  They  don't  label  every  fallen 
column,  and  place  fences  around  the  temples. 
They  seem  to  put  you  on  your  good  behavior. 
Then  I  always  like  to  go  to  a  place  where  you 
are  as  much  of  a  curiosity  to  the  people  as  they 
are  to  you.  It  seems  to  excuse  your  staring 
about  you." 

"  A  curiosity  !"  exclaimed  Carlton;  "I  should 
say  so  !  The  last  time  I  was  here  I  tried  to  wear 
a  pair  of  knickerbockers  around  the  city,  and 
the  people  stared  so  that  I  had  to  go  back  to 
the  hotel  and  change  them.  I  shouldn't  have 
minded  it  so  much  in  any  other  country,  but  I 
thought  men  who  wore  Jaeger  underclothing 
and  women's  petticoats  for  a  national  costume 
might  have  excused  so  slight  an  eccentricity  as 
knickerbockers.  They  had  no  right  to  throw 
the  first  stone." 

The  rock  upon  which  the  temples  of  the 
Acropolis  are  built  is  more  of  a  hill  than  a  rock. 
It  is  much  steeper  upon  one  side  than  the  other, 
with  a  sheer  fall  a  hundred  yards  broad;  on  the 
opposite  side  there  are  the  rooms  of  the  Hos 
pital  of  ^Esculapius  and  the  theatres  of  Dionysus 
and  Herodes  Atticus.  The  top  of  the  rock  holds 
the  Parthenon  and  the  other  smaller  temples, 
or  what  yet  remains  of  them,  and  its  surface  is 
littered  with  broken  marble  and  stones  and 

139 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

pieces  of  rock.  The  top  is  so  closely  built  over 
that  the  few  tourists  who  visit  it  can  imagine 
themselves  its  sole  occupants  for  a  half-hour  at 
a  time.  When  Carlton  and  his  friends  arrived, 
the  place  appeared  quite  deserted.  They  left 
the  carriage  at  the  base  of  the  rock,  and  climbed 
up  to  the  entrance  on  foot. 

"Now,  before  I  go  on  to  the  Parthenon,"  said 
Miss  Morris,  "  I  want  to  walk  around  the  sides, 
and  see  what  is  there.  I  shall  begin  with  that 
theatre  to  the  left,  and  I  warn  you  that  I  mean 
to  take  my  time  about  it.  So  you  people  who 
have  been  here  before  can  run  along  by  your 
selves,  but  I  mean  to  enjoy  it  leisurely.  I  am 
safe  by  myself  here,  am  I  not?"  she  asked. 

"As  safe  as  though  you  were  in  the  Metro 
politan  Museum,"  said  Carlton,  as  he  and  Mrs. 
Downs  followed  Miss  Morris  along  the  side  of 
the  hill  toward  the  ruined  theatre  of  Herodes, 
and  stood  at  its  top,  looking  down  into  the 
basin  below.  From  their  feet  ran  a  great  semi 
circle  of  marble  seats,  descending  tier  below 
tier  to  a  marble  pavement,  and  facing  a  great 
ruined  wall  of  pillars  and  arches  which  in  the 
past  had  formed  the  background  for  the  actors. 
From  the  height  on  which  they  stood  above  the 
city  they  could  see  the  green  country  stretching 
out  for  miles  on  every  side  and  swimming  in 
the  warm  sunlight,  the  dark  groves  of  myrtle 

140 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

on  the  hills,  the  silver  ribbon  of  the  inland  wa 
ter,  and  the  dark  blue  yEgean  Sea.  The  bleat 
ing  of  sheep  and  the  tinkling  of  the  bells  came 
up  to  them  from  the  pastures  below,  and  they 
imagined  they  could  hear  the  shepherds  piping 
to  their  flocks  from  one  little  hill-top  to  an 
other. 

'The  country  is  not  much  changed,"  said 
Carlton.  "And  when  you  stand  where  we  are 
now,  you  can  imagine  that  you  see  the  proces 
sion  winding  its  way  over  the  road  to  the  Eleu- 
sinian  Mysteries,  with  the  gilded  chariots,  and 
the  children  carrying  garlands,  and  the  priest 
esses  leading  the  bulls  for  the  sacrifice." 

"What  can  we  imagine  is  going  on  here?" 
said  Miss  Morris,  pointing  with  her  parasol  to 
the  theatre  below. 

"Oh,  this  is  much  later,"  said  Carlton. 
'This  was  built  by  the  Romans.  They  used 
to  act  and  to  hold  their  public  meetings  here. 
This  corresponds  to  the  top  row  of  our  gallery, 
and  you  can  imagine  that  you  are  looking  down 
on  the  bent  backs  of  hundreds  of  bald-headed 
men  in  white  robes,  listening  to  the  speakers 
strutting  about  below  there." 

"I  wonder  how  much  they  could  hear  from 
this  height?"  said  Mrs.  Downs. 

"Well,  they  had  that  big  wall  for  a  sounding- 
board,  and  the  air  is  so  soft  here  that  their 

141 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

voices  should  have  carried  easily,  and  I  believe 
they  wore  masks  with  mouth-pieces,  that  con 
veyed  the  sound  like  a  fireman's  trumpet.  If 
you  like,  I  will  run  down  there  and  call  up  to 
you,  and  you  can  hear  how  it  sounded.  I  will 
speak  in  my  natural  voice  first,  and  if  that 
doesn't  reach  you,  wave  your  parasol,  and  I 
will  try  it  a  little  louder." 

"Oh,  do!"  said  Miss  Morris.  "It  will  be 
very  good  of  you.  I  should  like  to  hear  a  real 
speech  in  the  theatre  of  Herodes,"  she  said,  as  she 
seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  marble  crater. 

"I'll  have  to  speak  in  English,"  said  Carlton, 
as  he  disappeared;  "my  Greek  isn't  good 
enough  to  carry  that  far." 

Mrs.  Downs  seated  herself  beside  her  niece, 
and  Carlton  began  scrambling  down  the  side  of 
the  amphitheatre.  The  marble  benches  were 
broken  in  parts,  and  where  they  were  perfect 
were  covered  with  a  fine  layer  of  moss  as  smooth 
and  soft  as  green  velvet,  so  that  Carlton,  when 
he  was  not  laboriously  feeling  for  his  next  foot 
hold  with  the  toe  of  his  boot,  was  engaged  in 
picking  spring  flowers  from  the  beds  of  moss 
and  sticking  them,  for  safe-keeping,  in  his  but 
ton-hole.  He  was  several  minutes  in  making 
the  descent,  and  so  busily  occupied  in  doing  it 
that  he  did  not  look  up  until  he  had  reached 
the  level  of  the  ground,  and  jumped  lightly  from 

142 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

the  first  row  of  seats  to  the  stage,  covered  with 
moss,  which  lay  like  a  heavy  rug  over  the  mar 
ble  pavement.  When  he  did  look  up  he  saw  a 
tableau  that  made  his  heart,  which  was  beating 
quickly  from  the  exertion  of  the  descent,  stand 
still  with  consternation.  The  Hohenwalds  had, 
in  his  short  absence,  descended  from  the  en 
trance  of  the  Acropolis,  and  had  stopped  on 
their  way  to  the  road  below  to  look  into  the  cool 
green  and  white  basin  of  the  theatre.  At  the 
moment  Carlton  looked  up  the  Duke  was 
standing  in  front  of  Mrs.  Downs  and  Miss  Mor 
ris,  and  all  of  the  men  had  their  hats  off.  Then, 
in  pantomime,  and  silhouetted  against  the  blue 
sky  behind  them,  Carlton  saw  the  Princesses  ad 
vance  beside  their  brother,  and  Mrs.  Downs  and 
her  niece  courtesied  three  times,  and  then  the 
whole  party  faced  about  in  a  line  and  looked 
down  at  him.  The  meaning  of  the  tableau  was 
only  too  plain. 

"Good  heavens  !"  gasped  Carlton.  "Every 
body's  getting  introduced  to  everybody  else, 
and  I've  missed  the  whole  thing !  If  they  think 
I'm  going  to  stay  down  here  and  amuse  them, 
and  miss  all  the  fun  myself,  they  are  greatly 
mistaken."  He  made  a  mad  rush  for  the  front 
first  row  of  seats;  but  there  was  a  cry  of  remon 
strance  from  above,  and,  looking  up,  he  saw  all 
of  the  men  waving  him  back. 

143 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

"Speech!"  cried  the  young  English  captain, 
applauding  loudly,  as  though  welcoming  an 
actor  on  his  first  entrance.  "Hats  off!"  he 
cried.  " Down  in  front !  Speech!" 

"Confound  that  ass!"  said  Carlton,  drop 
ping  back  to  the  marble  pavement  again,  and 
gazing  impotently  up  at  the  row  of  figures  out 
lined  against  the  sky.  "  I  must  look  like  a  bear 
in  the  bear-pit  at  the  Zoo,"  he  growled. 
'They'll  be  throwing  buns  to  me  next."  He 
could  see  the  two  elder  sisters  talking  to  Mrs. 
Downs,  who  was  evidently  explaining  his  pur 
pose  in  going  down  to  the  stage  of  the  theatre, 
and  he  could  see  the  Princess  Aline  bending  for 
ward,  with  both  hands  on  her  parasol,  and 
smiling.  The  captain  made  a  trumpet  of  his 
hands,  and  asked  why  he  didn't  begin. 

"Hello!  how  are  you?"  Carlton  called  back, 
waving  his  hat  at  him  in  some  embarrassment. 
"I  wonder  if  I  look  as  much  like  a  fool  as  I 
feel?"  he  muttered. 

"What  did  you  say?  We  can't  hear  you," 
answered  the  captain. 

"Louder!  louder!"  called  the  equerries. 
Carlton  swore  at  them  under  his  breath,  and 
turned  and  gazed  round  the  hole  in  which  he 
was  penned  in  order  to  make  them  believe  that 
he  had  given  up  the  idea  of  making  a  speech, 
or  had  ever  intended  doing  so.  He  tried  to 

144 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

think  of  something  clever  to  shout  back  at  them, 
and  rejected  "Ye  men  of  Athens"  as  being  too 
flippant,  and  "Friends,  Countrymen,  Romans," 
as  requiring  too  much  effort.  When  he  looked 
up  again  the  Hohenwalds  were  moving  on  their 
way,  and  as  he  started  once  more  to  scale  the 
side  of  the  theatre  the  Duke  waved  his  hand  at 
him  in  farewell,  and  gave  another  hand  to  his 
sisters,  who  disappeared  with  him  behind  the 
edge  of  the  upper  row  of  seats.  Carlton  turned 
at  once  and  dropped  into  one  of  the  marble 
chairs  and  bowed  his  head.  When  he  did  reach 
the  top  Miss  Morris  held  out  a  sympathetic 
hand  to  him  and  shook  her  head  sadly,  but  he 
could  see  that  she  was  pressing  her  lips  tightly 
together  to  keep  from  smiling. 

"Oh,  it's  all  very  funny  for  you,"  he  said, 
refusing  her  hand.  "I  don't  believe  you  are  in 
love  with  anybody.  You  don't  know  what  it 
means." 

They  revisited  the  rock  on  the  next  day  and 
on  the  day  after,  and  then  left  Athens  for  an 
inland  excursion  to  stay  overnight.  Miss  Mor 
ris  returned  from  it  with  the  sense  of  having 
done  her  duty  once,  and  by  so  doing  having 
earned  the  right  to  act  as  she  pleased  in  the 
future.  What  she  best  pleased  to  do  was  to 
wander  about  over  the  broad  top  of  the  Acrop 
olis,  with  no  serious  intent  of  studying  its  his- 

145 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

torical  values,  but  rather,  as  she  explained  it, 
for  the  simple  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  she 
was  there.  She  liked  to  stand  on  the  edge  of 
the  low  wall  along  its  top  and  look  out  over  the 
picture  of  sea  and  plain  and  mountains  that  lay 
below  her.  The  sun  shone  brightly,  and  the 
wind  swept  by  them  as  though  they  were  on  the 
bridge  of  an  ocean  steamer,  and  there  was  the 
added  invigorating  sense  of  pleasure  that  comes 
to  us  when  we  stand  on  a  great  height.  Carl- 
ton  was  sitting  at  her  feet,  shielded  from  the 
wind  by  a  fallen  column,  and  gazing  up  at  her 
with  critical  approval. 

"You  look  like  a  sort  of  a  'Winged  Victory' 
up  there,"  he  said,  "with  the  wind  blowing  your 
skirts  about  and  your  hair  coming  down." 

"I  don't  remember  that  the  'Winged  Vic 
tory*  has  any  hair  to  blow  about,"  suggested 
Miss  Morris. 

"I'd  like  to  paint  you,"  continued  Carlton, 
"just  as  you  are  standing  now,  only  I  would  put 
you  in  a  Greek  dress;  and  you  could  stand  a 
Greek  dress  better  than  almost  any  one  I  know. 
I  would  paint  you  with  your  head  up  and  one 
hand  shielding  your  eyes,  and  the  other  pressed 
against  your  breast.  It  would  be  stunning." 
He  spoke  enthusiastically,  but  in  quite  an  im 
personal  tone,  as  though  he  were  discussing  the 
posing  of  a  model. 

146 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

Miss  Morris  jumped  down  from  the  low  wall 
on  which  she  had  been  standing,  and  said,  sim 
ply,  "Of  course  I  should  like  to  have  you  paint 
me  very  much." 

Mrs.  Downs  looked  up  with  interest  to  see  if 
Mr.  Carlton  was  serious. 

"When?"    said   Carlton,    vaguely.      "Oh,    I 

don't  know.    Of  course  this  is  entirely  too  nice 

to  last,  and  you  will  be  going  home  soon,  and 

then  when  I  do  get  back  to  the  States  you  will 

—you  will  have  other  things  to  do." 

"Yes,"  repeated  Miss  Morris,  "I  shall  have 
something  else  to  do  besides  gazing  out  at  the 
yEgean  Sea."  She  raised  her  head  and  looked 
across  the  rock  for  a  moment  with  some  inter 
est.  Her  eyes,  which  had  grown  wistful,  lighted 
again  with  amusement.  "Here  are  your 
friends,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"No!"  exclaimed  Carlton,  scrambling  to 
his  feet. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Morris.  "The  Duke  has 
seen  us,  and  is  coming  over  here." 

When  Carlton  had  gained  his  feet  and  turned 
to  look,  his  friends  had  separated  in  different 
directions,  and  were  strolling  about  alone  or  in 
pairs  among  the  great  columns  of  the  Parthe 
non.  But  the  Duke  came  directly  toward  them, 
and  seated  himself  on  a  low  block  of  marble  in 
front  of  the  two  ladies.  After  a  word  or  two 

147 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

about  the  beauties  of  the  place,  he  asked  if  they 
would  go  to  the  reception  which  the  King  gave 
to  him  on  the  day  following.  They  answered 
that  they  should  like  to  come  very  much,  and 
the  Prince  expressed  his  satisfaction,  and  said 
that  he  would  see  that  the  chamberlain  sent 
them  invitations.  "And  you,  Mr.  Carlton, 
you  will  come  also,  I  hope.  I  wish  you  to  be 
presented  to  my  sisters.  They  are  only  ama 
teurs  in  art,  but  they  are  great  admirers  of  your 
work,  and  they  have  rebuked  me  for  not  hav 
ing  already  presented  you.  We  were  all  disap 
pointed,"  he  continued,  courteously,  "at  not 
having  you  to  dine  with  us  that  night  in  Con 
stantinople,  but  now  I  trust  I  shall  see  some 
thing  of  you  here.  You  must  tell  us  what  we 
are  to  admire." 

'That  is  very  easy,"  said  Carlton.  "Every 
thing." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  said  the  Prince,  bow 
ing  to  the  ladies  as  he  moved  away.  "It  is  all 
very  beautiful." 

"Well,  now  you  certainly  will  meet  her," 
said  Miss  Morris. 

"Oh,  no,  I  won't,"  said  Carlton,  with  resig 
nation.  "I  have  had  two  chances  and  lost 
them,  and  I'll  miss  this  one  too." 

"Well,  there  is  a  chance  you  shouldn't  miss," 
said  Miss  Morris,  pointing  and  nodding  her 

148 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

head.  'There  she  is  now,  and  all  alone.  She's 
sketching,  isn't  she,  or  taking  notes?  What  is 
she  doing?" 

Carlton  looked  eagerly  in  the  direction  Miss 
Morris  had  signified,  and  saw  the  Princess  Aline 
sitting  at  some  distance  from  them,  with  a  book 
on  her  lap.  She  glanced  up  from  this  now  and 
again  to  look  at  something  ahead  of  her,  and 
was  apparently  deeply  absorbed  in  her  occu 
pation. 

"There  is  your  opportunity,"  said  Mrs. 
Downs;  "and  we  are  going  back  to  the  hotel. 
Shall  we  see  you  at  luncheon?" 

"Yes,"  said  Carlton,  "unless  I  get  a  position 
as  drawing-master;  in  that  case  I  shall  be  here 
teaching  the  three  amateurs  in  art.  Do  you 
think  I  can  do  it?"  he  asked  Miss  Morris. 

"Decidedly,"  she  answered.  "I  have  found 
you  a  most  educational  young  person." 

They  went  away  together,  and  Carlton  moved 
cautiously  toward  the  spot  where  the  Princess 
was  sitting.  He  made  a  long  and  roundabout 
detour  as  he  did  so,  in  order  to  keep  himself 
behind  her.  He  did  not  mean  to  come  so  near 
that  she  would  see  him,  but  he  took  a  certain 
satisfaction  in  looking  at  her  when  she  was  alone, 
though  her  loneliness  was  only  a  matter  of  the 
moment,  and  though  he  knew  that  her  people 
were  within  a  hundred  yards  of  her.  He  was  in 

149 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

consequence  somewhat  annoyed  and  surprised 
to  see  another  young  man  dodging  in  and  out 
among  the  pillars  of  the  Parthenon  immedi 
ately  ahead  of  him,  and  to  find  that  this  young 
man  also  had  his  attention  centred  on  the  young 
girl,  who  sat  unconsciously  sketching  in  the 
foreground. 

"Now  what  the  devil  can  he  want?"  muttered 
Carlton,  his  imagination  taking  alarm  at  once. 
"If  it  would  only  prove  to  be  some  one  who 
meant  harm  to  her,"  he  thought — "a  brigand, 
or  a  beggar,  who  might  be  obligingly  insolent, 
or  even  a  tipsy  man,  what  a  chance  it  would 
afford  for  heroic  action!" 

With  this  hope  he  moved  forward  quickly 
but  silently,  hoping  that  the  stranger  might 
prove  even  to  be  an  anarchist  with  a  grudge 
against  royalty.  And  as  he  advanced  he  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  Princess  glance 
over  her  shoulder,  and,  observing  the  man,  rise 
and  walk  quickly  away  toward  the  edge  of  the 
rock.  There  she  seated  herself  with  her  face 
toward  the  city,  and  with  her  back  firmly  set 
against  her  pursuer. 

"He  is  annoying  her!"  exclaimed  Carlton, 
delightedly,  as  he  hurried  forward.  "It  looks 
as  though  my  chance  had  come  at  last."  But 
as  he  approached  the  stranger  he  saw,  to  his 
great  disappointment,  that  he  had  nothing  more 

150 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

serious  to  deal  with  than  one  of  the  interna 
tional  army  of  amateur  photographers,  who  had 
been  stalking  the  Princess  as  a  hunter  follows 
an  elk,  or  as  he  would  have  stalked  a  race-horse 
or  a  prominent  politician  or  a  Lord  Mayor's 
show,  everything  being  fish  that  came  within 
the  focus  of  his  camera.  A  helpless  statue  and 
an  equally  helpless  young  girl  were  both  good 
subjects  and  at  his  mercy.  He  was  bending 
over,  with  an  anxious  expression  of  counte 
nance,  and  focussing  his  camera  on  the  back  of 
the  Princess  Aline,  when  Carlton  approached 
from  the  rear.  As  the  young  man  put  his  finger 
on  the  button  of  the  camera,  Carlton  jogged  his 
arm  with  his  elbow,  and  pushed  the  enthusias 
tic  tourist  to  one  side. 

"I  say,"  exclaimed  that  individual,  "look 
where  you're  going,  will  you?  You  spoiled  that 
plate." 

"I'll  spoil  your  camera  if  you  annoy  that 
young  lady  any  longer,"  said  Carlton,  in  a  low 
voice. 

The  photographer  was  rapidly  rewinding  his 
roll,  and  the  fire  of  pursuit  was  still  in  his 
eye. 

"She's  a  Princess,"  he  explained,  in  an  ex 
cited  whisper. 

"Well,"  said  Carlton,  "even  a  Princess  is  en 
titled  to  some  consideration.  Besides,"  he  said, 

151 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

in  a  more  amicable  tone,  "y°u  haven't  a  permit 
to  photograph  on  the  Acropolis.  You  know  you 
haven't."  Carlton  was  quite  sure  of  this,  be 
cause  there  were  no  such  permits. 

The  amateur  looked  up  in  some  dismay.  "  I 
didn't  know  you  had  to  have  them,"  he  said. 
"Where  can  I  get  one?" 

"The  King  may  give  you  one,"  said  Carlton. 
"He  lives  at  the  palace.  If  they  catch  you  up 
here  without  a  license,  they  will  confiscate  your 
camera  and  lock  you  up.  You  had  better  van 
ish  before  they  see  you." 

'Thank  you.  I  will,"  said  the  tourist,  anx 
iously. 

"Now,"  thought  Carlton,  smiling  pleasantly, 
"when  he  goes  to  the  palace  with  that  box  and 
asks  for  a  permit,  they'll  think  he  is  either  a 
dynamiter  or  a  crank,  and  before  they  are 
through  with  him  his  interest  in  photography 
will  have  sustained  a  severe  shock." 

As  Carlton  turned  from  watching  the  rapid 
flight  of  the  photographer,  he  observed  that  the 
Princess  had  remarked  it  also,  as  she  had  no 
doubt  been  a  witness  of  what  had  passed,  even 
if  she  had  not  overheard  all  that  had  been  said. 
She  rose  from  her  enforced  position  of  refuge 
with  a  look  of  relief,  and  came  directly  toward 
Carlton  along  the  rough  path  that  led  through 
the  debris  on  the  top  of  the  Acropolis.  Carlton 

152 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

had  thought,  as  he  watched  her  sitting  on  the 
wall,  with  her  chin  resting  on  her  hand,  that  she 
would  make  a  beautiful  companion  picture  to 
the  one  he  had  wished  to  paint  of  Miss  Morris 
—the  one  girl  standing  upright,  looking  fear 
lessly  out  to  sea,  on  the  top  of  the  low  wall,  with 
the  wind  blowing  her  skirts  about  her,  and  her 
hair  tumbled  in  the  breeze,  and  the  other  seated, 
bending  intently  forward,  as  though  watching 
for  the  return  of  a  long-delayed  vessel;  a  beau 
tifully  sad  face,  fine  and  delicate  and  noble,  the 
face  of  a  girl  on  the  figure  of  a  woman.  And 
when  she  rose  he  made  no  effort  to  move  away, 
or,  indeed,  to  pretend  not  to  have  seen  her,  but 
stood  looking  at  her  as  though  he  had  the  right 
to  do  so,  and  as  though  she  must  know  he  had 
that  right.  As  she  came  toward  him  the  Prin 
cess  Aline  did  not  stop,  nor  even  shorten  her 
steps;  but  as  she  passed  opposite  to  him  she 
bowed  her  thanks  with  a  sweet  impersonal 
smile  and  a  dropping  of  the  eyes,  and  contin 
ued  steadily  on  her  way. 

Carlton  stood  for  some  short  time  looking 
after  her,  with  his  hat  still  at  his  side.  She 
seemed  farther  from  him  at  that  moment  than 
she  had  ever  been  before,  although  she  had  for 
the  first  time  recognized  him.  But  he  knew 
that  it  was  only  as  a  human  being  that  she  had 
recognized  him.  He  put  on  his  hat,  and  sat 

153 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

down  on  a  rock  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees, 
and  filled  his  pipe. 

"  If  that  had  been  any  other  girl,"  he  thought, 
"I  would  have  gone  up  to  her  and  said,  'Was 
that  man  annoying  you?'  and  she  would  have 
said,  'Yes;  thank  you,'  or  something;  and  I 
would  have  walked  along  with  her  until  we  had 
come  up  to  her  friends,  and  she  would  have  told 
them  I  had  been  of  some  slight  service  to  her, 
and  they  would  have  introduced  us,  and  all 
would  have  gone  well.  But  because  she  is  a 
Princess  she  cannot  be  approached  in  that  way. 
At  least  she  does  not  think  so,  and  I  have  to 
act  as  she  has  been  told  I  should  act,  and  not  as 
I  think  I  should.  After  all,  she  is  only  a  very 
beautiful  girl,  and  she  must  be  very  tired  of  her 
cousins  and  grandmothers,  and  of  not  being  al 
lowed  to  see  any  one  else.  These  royalties 
make  a  very  picturesque  show  for  the  rest  of 
us,  but  indeed  it  seems  rather  hard  on  them. 
A  hundred  years  from  now  there  will  be  no  more 
kings  and  queens,  and  the  writers  of  that  day 
will  envy  us,  just  as  the  writers  of  this  day 
envy  the  men  who  wrote  of  chivalry  and  tourna 
ments,  and  they  will  have  to  choose  their  heroes 
from  bank  presidents,  and  their  heroines  from 
lady  lawyers  and  girl  politicians  and  type-writ 
ers.  What  a  stupid  world  it  will  be  then !" 

The  next  day  brought  the  reception  to  the 
154 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

Hohenwalds;  and  Carlton,  entering  the  read 
ing-room  of  the  hotel  on  the  same  afternoon, 
found  Miss  Morris  and  her  aunt  there  together 
taking  tea.  They  both  looked  at  him  with  ex 
pressions  of  such  genuine  commiseration  that 
he  stopped  just  as  he  was  going  to  seat  himself 
and  eyed  them  defiantly. 

"Don't  tell  me,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  this  has 
fallen  through  too!" 

Miss  Morris  nodded  her  head  silently. 

Carlton  dropped  into  the  chair  beside  them, 
and  folded  his  arms  with  a  frown  of  grim  resig 
nation.  "What  is  it?"  he  asked.  "Have 
they  postponed  the  reception?" 

"No,"  Miss  Morris  said;  "but  the  Princess 
Aline  will  not  be  there." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Carlton,  calmly,  "of 
course  not.  May  I  ask  why?  I  knew  that  she 
wouldn't  be  there,  but  I  may  possibly  be  al 
lowed  to  express  some  curiosity." 

"She  turned  her  ankle  on  one  of  the  loose 
stones  on  the  Acropolis  this  afternoon,"  said 
Miss  Morris,  "and  sprained  it  so  badly  that 
they  had  to  carry  her— 

"Who  carried  her?"  Carlton  demanded, 
fiercely. 

"Some  of  her  servants." 

"Of  course,  of  course!"  cried  Carlton. 
"That's  the  way  it  always  will  be.  I  was  there 

155 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

the  whole  afternoon,  and  I  didn't  see  her.  I 
wasn't  there  to  help  her.  It's  Fate,  that's  what 
it  is — Fate!  There's  no  use  in  my  trying  to 
fight  against  Fate.  Still,"  he  added  anxiously, 
with  a  sudden  access  of  hope,  "she  may  be  well 
by  this  evening." 

"I  hardly  think  she  will,"  said  Miss  Mor 
ris,  "but  we  will  trust  so." 

The  King's  palace  and  gardens  stretch  along 
one  end  of  the  public  park,  and  are  but  just 
across  the  street  from  the  hotel  where  the  Ho- 
henwalds  and  the  Americans  were  staying.  As 
the  hotel  was  the  first  building  on  the  left  of 
the  square,  Carlton  could  see  from  his  windows 
the  illuminations,  and  the  guards  of  honor,  and 
the  carriages  arriving  and  departing,  and  the 
citizens  of  Athens  crowding  the  parks  and  peer 
ing  through  the  iron  rails  into  the  King's  gar 
den.  It  was  a  warm  night,  and  lighted  grandly 
by  a  full  moon  that  showed  the  Acropolis  in 
silhouette  against  the  sky,  and  gave  a  strangely 
theatrical  look  to  the  yellow  house  fronts  and 
red  roofs  of  the  town.  Every  window  in  the 
broad  front  of  the  palace  was  illuminated,  and 
through  the  open  doors  came  the  sound  of  music, 
and  one  without  could  see  rows  of  tall  servants 
in  the  King's  blue  and  white  livery,  and  the 
men  of  his  guard  in  their  white  petticoats  and 
black  and  white  jackets  and  red  caps.  Carlton 

156 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

pulled  a  light  coat  over  his  evening  dress,  and, 
with  an  agitation  he  could  hardly  explain, 
walked  across  the  street  and  entered  the  pal 
ace.  The  line  of  royalties  had  broken  by  the 
time  he  reached  the  ball-room,  and  the  not 
over-severe  etiquette  of  the  Greek  court  left 
him  free,  after  a  bow  to  those  who  still  waited 
to  receive  it,  to  move  about  as  he  pleased. 
His  most  earnest  desire  was  to  learn  whether 
or  not  the  Princess  Aline  was  present,  and  with 
that  end  he  clutched  the  English  adjutant  as 
that  gentleman  was  hurrying  past  him,  and 
asked  eagerly  if  the  Princess  had  recovered  from 
her  accident. 

"No,"  said  the  officer;  "she's  able  to  walk 
about,  but  not  to  stand,  and  sit  out  a  dinner, 
and  dance,  and  all  this  sort  of  thing.  Too  bad, 
wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  said  Carlton,  "very  bad."  He  re 
leased  his  hand  from  the  other's  arm,  and 
dropped  back  among  the  men  grouped  about 
the  doorway.  His  disappointment  was  very 
keen.  Indeed,  he  had  not  known  how  much 
this  meeting  with  the  Princess  had  meant  to 
him  until  he  experienced  this  disappointment, 
which  was  succeeded  by  a  wish  to  find  Miss 
Morris,  and  have  her  sympathize  and  laugh 
with  him.  He  became  conscious,  as  he  searched 
with  growing  impatience  the  faces  of  those  pass- 

157 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

ing  and  repassing  before  him,  of  how  much  the 
habit  of  going  to  Aliss  Morris  for  sympathy  in 
his  unlucky  love-affair  had  grown  of  late  upon 
him.  He  wondered  what  he  would  have  done 
in  his  travels  without  her,  and  whether  he  should 
have  had  the  interest  to  carry  on  his  pursuit 
had  she  not  been  there  to  urge  him  on,  and  to 
mock  at  him  when  he  grew  faint-hearted. 

But  when  he  finally  did  discover  her  he  stood 
quite  still,  and  for  an  instant  doubted  if  it  were 
she.  The  girl  he  saw  seemed  to  be  a  more  beau 
tiful  sister  of  the  Miss  Morris  he  knew — a  taller, 
fairer,  and  more  radiant  personage;  and  he 
feared  that  it  was  not  she,  until  he  remem 
bered  that  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever 
seen  her  with  her  hair  dressed  high  upon  her 
head,  and  in  the  more  distinguished  accessories 
of  a  decollete  gown  and  train.  Miss  Morris  had 
her  hand  on  the  arm  of  one  of  the  equerries, 
who  was  battling  good-naturedly  with  the 
crowd,  and  trying  to  draw  her  away  from  two 
persistent  youths  in  diplomatic  uniform  who 
were  laughing  and  pressing  forward  in  close  pur 
suit  on  the  other  side.  Carlton  approached  her 
with  a  certain  feeling  of  diffidence,  which  was 
most  unusual  to  him,  and  asked  if  she  were 
dancing. 

"Mr.  Carlton  shall  decide  for  me,"  Miss  Mor 
ris  said,  dropping  the  equerry's  arm  and  stand 
ing  beside  the  American.  "  I  have  promised  all 


of  these  gentlemen,"  she  explained,  "to  dance 
with  them,  and  now  they  won't  agree  as  to 
which  is  to  dance  first.  They've  wasted  half 
this  waltz  already  in  discussing  it,  and  they 
make  it  much  more  difficult  by  saying  that  no 
matter  how  I  decide,  they  will  fight  duels  with 
the  one  I  choose,  which  is  most  unpleasant  for 
me." 

"Most  unpleasant  for  the  gentleman  you 
choose,  too,"  suggested  Carlton. 

"So,"  continued  Miss  Morris,  "I  have  de 
cided  to  leave  it  to  you." 

"Well,  if  I  am  to  arbitrate  between  the  pow 
ers,"  said  Carlton,  with  a  glance  at  the  three 
uniforms,  "my  decision  is  that  as  they  insist 
on  fighting  duels  in  any  event,  you  had  better 
dance  with  me  until  they  have  settled  it  be 
tween  them,  and  then  the  survivor  can  have 
the  next  dance." 

"That's  a  very  good  idea,"  said  Miss  Mor 
ris;  and  taking  Carlton's  arm,  she  bowed  to 
the  three  men  and  drew  away. 

"Mr.  Carlton,"  said  the  equerry,  with  a  bow, 
"  has  added  another  argument  in  favor  of  main 
taining  standing  armies,  and  of  not  submit 
ting  questions  to  arbitration." 

"Let's  get  out  of  this,"  said  Carlton.  "You 
don't  want  to  dance,  do  you?  Let  us  go  where 
it's  cool." 

He  led  her  down  the  stairs,  and  out  onto  the 
159 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

terrace.  They  did  not  speak  again  until  they 
had  left  it,  and  were  walking  under  the  trees  in 
the  Queen's  garden.  He  had  noticed  as  they 
made  their  way  through  the  crowd  how  the  men 
and  women  turned  to  look  at  her  and  made  way 
for  her,  and  how  utterly  unconscious  she  was 
of  their  doing  so,  with  that  unconsciousness 
which  comes  from  familiarity  with  such  dis 
crimination,  and  Carlton  himself  held  his  head 
a  little  higher  with  the  pride  and  pleasure  the 
thought  gave  him  that  he  was  in  such  friendly 
sympathy  with  so  beautiful  a  creature.  He 
stopped  before  a  low  stone  bench  that  stood  on 
the  edge  of  the  path,  surrounded  by  a  screen 
of  tropical  trees,  and  guarded  by  a  marble 
statue.  They  were  in  deep  shadow  themselves, 
but  the  moonlight  fell  on  the  path  at  their  feet, 
and  through  the  trees  on  the  other  side  of  the 
path  they  could  see  the  open  terrace  of  the  pal 
ace,  with  the  dancers  moving  in  and  out  of  the 
lighted  windows.  The  splash  of  a  fountain 
came  from  some  short  distance  behind  them, 
and  from  time  to  time  they  heard  the  strains 
of  a  regimental  band  alternating  with  the  softer 
strains  of  a  waltz  played  by  a  group  of  Hun 
garian  musicians.  For  a  moment  neither  of 
them  spoke,  but  sat  watching  the  white  dresses 
of  the  women  and  the  uniforms  of  the  men  mov 
ing  in  and  out  among  the  trees,  lighted  by  the 

1 60 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

lanterns  hanging  from  the  branches,  and  the 
white  mist  of  the  moon. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Carlton,  "I'm  rather 
afraid  of  you  to-night!"  He  paused,  and 
watched  her  for  a  little  time  as  she  sat  upright, 
with  her  hands  folded  on  her  lap.  "You  are 
so  very  resplendent  and  queenly  and  altogether 
different,"  he  added.  The  girl  moved  her  bare 
shoulders  slightly  and  leaned  back  against  the 
bench. 

"  The  Princess  did  not  come,"  she  said. 

"No,"  Carlton  answered,  with  a  sudden 
twinge  of  conscience  at  having  forgotten  that 
fact.  "  That's  one  of  the  reasons  I  took  you 
away  from  those  men,"  he  explained.  "I 
wanted  you  to  sympathize  with  me." 

Miss  Morris  did  not  answer  him  at  once. 
She  did  not  seem  to  be  in  a  sympathetic  mood. 
Her  manner  suggested  rather  that  she  was  tired 
and  troubled. 

"I  need  sympathy  myself  to-night,"  she  said. 
"We  received  a  letter  after  dinner  that  brought 
bad  news  for  us.  We  must  go  home  at  once." 

"Bad  news!"  exclaimed  Carlton,  with  much 
concern.  "From  home?" 

"Yes,  from  home,"  she  replied;  "but  there 
is  nothing  wrong  there;  it  is  only  bad  news  for 
us.  My  sister  has  decided  to  be  married  in 
June  instead  of  July,  and  that  cuts  us  out  of  a 

161 


month  on  the  Continent.  That's  all.  We  shall 
have  to  leave  immediately — to-morrow.  It 
seems  that  Mr.  Abbey  is  able  to  go  away  sooner 
than  he  had  hoped,  and  they  are  to  be  married 
on  the  first." 

"Mr.  Abbey!"  exclaimed  Carlton,  catching 
at  the  name.  "But  your  sister  isn't  going  to 
marry  him,  is  she?" 

Miss  Morris  turned  her  head  in  some  sur 
prise.  "Yes — why  not?"  she  said. 

"But  I  say!"  cried  Carlton,  "I  thought— 
your  aunt  told  me  that  you  were  going  to  marry 
Abbey ;  she  told  me  so  that  day  on  the  steamer 
when  he  came  to  see  you  off." 

"I  marry  him — my  aunt  told  you — impos 
sible!"  said  Miss  Morris,  smiling.  "She  prob 
ably  said  that  'her  niece'  was  going  to  marry 
him;  she  meant  my  sister.  They  had  been  en 
gaged  some  time." 

"Then  who  are  you  going  to  marry?"  stam 
mered  Carlton. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  marry  any  one,"  said  Miss 
Morris. 

Carlton  stared  at  her  blankly  in  amazement. 
"Well,  that's  most  absurd!"  he  exclaimed. 

He  recognized  instantly  that  the  expression 
was  hardly  adequate,  but  he  could  not  read 
just  his  mind  so  suddenly  to  the  new  idea,  and 
he  remained  looking  at  her  with  many  confused 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

memories  rushing  through  his  brain.  A  dozen 
questions  were  on  his  tongue.  He  remembered 
afterward  how  he  had  noticed  a  servant  trim 
ming  the  candle  in  one  of  the  orange-colored 
lanterns,  and  that  he  had  watched  him  as  he 
disappeared  among  the  palms. 

The  silence  lasted  for  so  long  a  time  that  it 
had  taken  on  a  significance  in  itself  which  Carl- 
ton  recognized.  He  pulled  himself  up  with  a 
short  laugh.  "Well,"  he  remonstrated,  mirth 
lessly,  "I  don't  think  you've  treated  me  very 
well." 

"How,  not  treated  you  very  well?"  Miss 
Morris  asked,  settling  herself  more  easily.  She 
had  been  sitting  during  the  pause  which  fol 
lowed  Carlton's  discovery  with  a  certain  rigid 
ity,  as  if  she  was  on  a  strain  of  attention.  But 
her  tone  was  now  as  friendly  as  always,  and 
held  its  customary  suggestion  of  amusement. 
Carlton  took  his  tone  from  it,  although  his 
mind  was  still  busily  occupied  with  incidents 
and  words  of  hers  that  she  had  spoken  in  their 
past  intercourse. 

"Not  fair  in  letting  me  think  you  were  en 
gaged,"  he  said.  "I've  wasted  so  much  time; 
I'm  not  half  civil  enough  to  engaged  girls,"  he 
explained. 

"You've  been  quite  civil  enough  to  us,"  said 
Miss  Morris,  "as  a  courier,  philosopher,  and 

.63 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

friend.  I'm  very  sorry  we  have  to  part  com 
pany." 

"Part  company!"  exclaimed  Carlton,  in 
sudden  alarm.  "But,  I  say,  we  mustn't  do 
that." 

"But  we  must,  you  see,"  said  Miss  Morris. 
"We  must  go  back  for  the  wedding,  and  you 
will  have  to  follow  the  Princess  Aline." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  Carlton  heard  his  own 
voice  say.  "  I  had  forgotten  the  Princess  Aline." 
But  he  was  not  thinking  of  what  he  was  saying, 
nor  of  the  Princess  Aline.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  many  hours  Miss  Morris  and  he  had  been 
together,  of  the  way  she  had  looked  at  certain 
times,  and  of  how  he  had  caught  himself  watch 
ing  her  at  others;  how  he  had  pictured  the 
absent  Mr.  Abbey  travelling  with  her  later  over 
the  same  route,  and  without  a  chaperon,  sitting 
close  at  her  side  or  holding  her  hand,  and  tell 
ing  her  just  how  pretty  she  was  whenever  he 
wished  to  do  so,  and  without  any  fear  of  the 
consequences.  He  remembered  how  ready  she 
had  been  to  understand  what  he  was  going  to 
say  before  he  had  finished  saying  it,  and  how 
she  had  always  made  him  show  the  best  of  him 
self,  and  had  caused  him  to  leave  unsaid  many 
things  that  became  common  and  unworthy 
when  considered  in  the  light  of  her  judgment. 
He  recalled  how  impatient  he  had  been  when 

164 


THE   PRINCESS  ALINE 

she  was  late  at  dinner,  and  how  cross  he  was 
throughout  one  whole  day  when  she  had  kept 
her  room.  He  felt  with  a  sudden  shock  of  de 
lightful  fear  that  he  had  grown  to  depend  upon 
her,  that  she  was  the  best  companion  he  had 
ever  known;  and  he  remembered  moments 
when  they  had  been  alone  together  at  the  table, 
or  in  some  old  palace,  or  during  a  long  walk, 
when  they  had  seemed  to  have  the  whole  world 
entirely  to  themselves,  and  how  he  had  con 
soled  himself  at  such  times  with  the  thought 
that  no  matter  how  long  she  might  be  Abbey's 
wife,  there  had  been  these  moments  in  her  life 
which  were  his,  with  which  Abbey  had  had 
nothing  to  do. 

Carlton  turned  and  looked  at  her  with  strange 
wide-open  eyes,  as  though  he  saw  her  for  the 
first  time.  He  felt  so  sure  of  himself  and  of  his 
love  for  her  that  the  happiness  of  it  made  him 
tremble,  and  the  thought  that  if  he  spoke  she 
might  answer  him  in  the  old,  friendly,  mock 
ing  tone  of  good-fellowship  filled  him  with 
alarm.  At  that  moment  it  seemed  to  Carlton 
that  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for 
them  to  do  would  be  to  go  back  again  together 
over  the  road  they  had  come,  seeing  every 
thing  in  the  new  light  of  his  love  for  her,  and 
so  travel  on  and  on  forever  over  the  world, 
learning  to  love  each  other  more  and  more  each 

165 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

succeeding  day,  and  leaving  the  rest  of  the  uni 
verse  to  move  along  without  them. 

He  leaned  forward  with  his  arm  along  the 
back  of  the  bench,  and  bent  his  face  toward 
hers.  Her  hand  lay  at  her  side,  and  his  own 
closed  over  it,  but  the  shock  that  the  touch  of 
her  fingers  gave  him  stopped  and  confused  the 
words  upon  his  tongue.  He  looked  strangely 
at  her,  and  could  not  find  the  speech  he  needed. 

Miss  Morris  gave  his  hand  a  firm,  friendly 
little  pressure  and  drew  her  own  away,  as  if  he 
had  taken  hers  only  in  an  exuberance  of  good 
feeling. 

"You  have  been  very  nice  to  us,"  she  said, 
with  an  effort  to  make  her  tone  sound  kindly 
and  approving.  "And  we— 

"You  mustn't  go;  I  can't  let  you  go,"  said 
Carlton,  hoarsely.  There  was  no  mistaking  his 
tone  or  his  earnestness  now.  "If  you  go," 
he  went  on,  breathlessly,  "I  must  go  with 
you." 

The  girl  moved  restlessly;  she  leaned  forward, 
and  drew  in  her  breath  with  a  slight,  nervous 
tremor.  Then  she  turned  and  faced  him,  al 
most  as  though  she  were  afraid  of  him  or  of  her 
self,  and  they  sat  so  for  an  instant  in  silence. 
The  air  seemed  to  have  grown  close  and  heavy, 
and  Carlton  saw  her  dimly.  In  the  silence  he 
heard  the  splash  of  the  fountain  behind  them, 

166 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

and  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  in  the  night  wind, 
and  the  low,  sighing  murmur  of  a  waltz. 

He  raised  his  head  to  listen,  and  she  saw  in 
the  moonlight  that  he  was  smiling.  It  was  as 
though  he  wished  to  delay  any  answer  she 
might  make  to  his  last  words. 

"That  is  the  waltz,"  he  said,  still  speaking 
in  a  whisper,  "that  the  gypsies  played  that 
night—  He  stopped,  and  Miss  Morris  an 
swered  him  by  bending  her  head  slowly  in  as 
sent.  It  seemed  to  be  an  effort  for  her  to  even 
make  that  slight  gesture. 

'You  don't  remember  it,"  said  Carlton.  "It 
meant  nothing  to  you.  I  mean  that  night  on 
the  steamer  when  I  told  you  what  love  meant 
to  other  people.  What  a  fool  I  was!"  he  said, 
with  an  uncertain  laugh. 

"Yes,  I  remember  it,"  she  said — "last  Thurs 
day  night,  on  the  steamer." 

"Thursday  night!"  exclaimed  Carlton,  in 
dignantly.  "Wednesday  night,  Tuesday  night, 
how  should  I  know  what  night  of  the  week  it 
was?  It  was  the  night  of  my  life  to  me.  That 
night  I  knew  that  I  loved  you  as  I  had  never 
hoped  to  care  for  any  one  in  this  world.  When 
I  told  you  \hat  I  did  not  know  what  love  meant 
I  felt  all  the  time  that  I  was  lying.  I  knew  that 
I  loved  you,  and  that  I  could  never  love  any 
one  else,  artd  that  I  had  never  loved  any  one 

167 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

before;  and  if  I  had  thought  then  you  could 
care  for  me,  your  engagement  or  your  promises 
would  never  have  stopped  my  telling  you  so. 
You  said  that  night  that  I  would  learn  to  love 
all  the  better,  and  more  truly,  for  having 
doubted  myself  so  long,  and,  oh,  Edith,"  he 
cried,  taking  both  her  hands  and  holding  them 
close  in  his  own,  "  I  cannot  let  you  go  now !  I 
love  you  so!  Don't  laugh  at  me;  don't  mock 
at  me.  AH  the  rest  of  my  life  depends  on  you." 
And  then  Miss  Morris  laughed  softly,  just  as 
he  had  begged  her  not  to  do,  but  her  laughter 
was  so  full  of  happiness,  and  came  so  gently 
and  sweetly,  and  spoke  so  truly  of  content,  that 
though  he  let  go  of  her  hands  with  one  of  his, 
it  was  only  that  he  might  draw  her  to  him,  until 
her  face  touched  his,  and  she  felt  the  strength 
of  his  arm  as  he  held  her  against  his  breast. 

The  Hohenwalds  occupied  the  suite  of  rooms 
on  the  first  floor  of  the  hotel,  with  the  privilege 
of  using  the  broad  balcony  that  reached  out  from 
it  over  the  front  entrance.  And  at  the  time 
when  Mrs.  Downs  and  Edith  Morris  and  Carl- 
ton  drove  up  to  the  hotel  from  the  ball,  the 
Princess  Aline  was  leaning  over  the  balcony 
and  watching  the  lights  go  out  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  house,  and  the  moonlight  as  it  fell  on  the 
trees  and  statues  in  the  public  park  below.  Her 

1 68 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

foot  was  still  in  bandages,  and  she  was  wrapped 
in  a  long  cloak  to  keep  her  from  the  cold.  In 
side  of  the  open  windows  that  led  out  on  to  the 
balcony  her  sisters  were  taking  off  their  orna 
ments,  and  discussing  the  incidents  of  the  night 
just  over. 

The  Princess  Aline,  unnoticed  by  those  be 
low,  saw  Carlton  help  Mrs.  Downs  to  alight 
from  the  carriage,  and  then  give  his  hand  to 
another  muffled  figure  that  followed  her;  and 
while  Mrs.  Downs  was  ascending  the  steps,  and 
before  the  second  muffled  figure  had  left  the 
shadow  of  the  carriage  and  stepped  into  the 
moonlight,  the  Princess  Aline  saw  Carlton  draw 
her  suddenly  back  and  kiss  her  lightly  on  the 
cheek,  and  heard  a  protesting  gasp,  and  saw 
Miss  Morris  pull  her  cloak  over  her  head  and 
run  up  the  steps.  Then  she  saw  Carlton  shake 
hands  with  them,  and  stand  for  a  moment  after 
they  had  disappeared,  gazing  up  at  the  moon 
and  fumbling  in  the  pockets  of  his  coat.  He 
drew  out  a  cigar-case  and  leisurely  selected  a 
cigar,  and  with  much  apparent  content  lighted 
it,  and  then,  with  his  head  thrown  back  and  his 
chest  expanded,  as  though  he  were  challenging 
the  world,  he  strolled  across  the  street  and  dis 
appeared  among  the  shadows  of  the  deserted 
park. 

The  Princess  walked  back  to  one  of  the  open 
169 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

windows,  and  stood  there  leaning  against  the 
side.  "That  young  Mr.  Carlton,  the  artist," 
she  said  to  her  sisters,  "is  engaged  to  that  beau 
tiful  American  girl  we  met  the  other  day." 

"Really!"  said  the  elder  sister.  "I  thought 
it  was  probable.  Who  told  you?" 

"I  saw  him  kiss  her  good-night,"  said  the 
Princess,  stepping  into  the  window,  "as  they 
got  out  of  their  carriage  just  now." 

The  Princess  Aline  stood  for  a  moment  look 
ing  thoughtfully  at  the  floor,  and  then  walked 
across  the  room  to  a  little  writing-desk.  She 
unlocked  a  drawer  in  this  and  took  from  it  two 
slips  of  paper,  which  she  folded  in  her  hand. 
Then  she  returned  slowly  across  the  room,  and 
stepped  out  again  on  to  the  balcony. 

One  of  the  pieces  of  paper  held  the  picture 
Carlton  had  drawn  of  her,  and  under  which  he 
had  written:  "This  is  she.  Do  you  wonder  I 
travelled  four  thousand  miles  to  see  her?" 
And  the  other  was  the  picture  of  Carlton  him 
self,  which  she  had  cut  out  of  the  catalogue  of 
the  Salon. 

From  the  edge  of  the  balcony  where  the  Prin 
cess  stood  she  could  see  the  glimmer  of  Carl- 
ton's  white  linen  and  the  red  glow  of  his  cigar 
as  he  strode  proudly  up  and  down  the  path  of 
the  public  park,  like  a  sentry  keeping  watch. 
She  folded  the  pieces  of  paper  together  and  tore 

170 


THE  PRINCESS  ALINE 

them  slowly  into  tiny  fragments,  and  let  them 
fall  through  her  fingers  into  the  street  below. 
Then  she  returned  again  to  the  room,  and  stood 
looking  at  her  sisters. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "I  think  I  am  a 
little  tired  of  travelling  so  much.  I  want  to  go 
back  to  Grasse."  She  put  her  hand  to  her  fore 
head  and  held  it  there  for  a  moment.  "  I  think 
I  am  a  little  homesick,"  said  the  Princess  Aline. 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

I 

THE  private  terrace  of  the  Hotel  Grande-Bre- 
tagne,  at  Tangier,  was  shaded  by  a  great  awn 
ing  of  red  and  green  and  yellow,  and  strewn  with 
colored  mats,  and  plants  in  pots,  and  wicker 
chairs.  It  reached  out  from  the  King's  apart 
ments  into  the  Garden  of  Palms,  and  was  hid 
den  by  them  on  two  sides,  and  showed  from 
the  third  the  blue  waters  of  the  Mediterranean 
and  the  great  shadow  of  Gibraltar  in  the  dis 
tance. 

The  Sultan  of  Morocco  had  given  orders  from 
Fez  that  the  King  of  Messina,  in  spite  of  his 
incognito,  should  be  treated  during  his  stay  in 
Tangier  with  the  consideration  due  to  his  rank, 
so  one-half  of  the  Hotel  Grande-Bretagne  had 
been  set  aside  for  him  and  his  suite,  and  two 
soldiers  of  the  Bashaw's  Guard  sat  outside  of 
his  door  with  drawn  swords.  They  were  an 
swerable  with  their  heads  for  the  life  and  safety 
of  the  Sultan's  guest,  and  as  they  could  speak 
no  language  but  their  own,  they  made  a  visit  to 
his  Majesty  more  a  matter  of  adventure  than 
of  etiquette. 

175 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

Niccolas,  the  King's  major-domo,  stepped 
out  upon  the  terrace  and  swept  the  Mediter 
ranean  with  a  field-glass  for  the  third  time  since 
sunrise.  He  lowered  it,  and  turned  doubtfully 
toward  the  two  soldiers. 

'The  boat  from  Gibraltar — has  she  arrived 
yet?"  he  asked. 

The  two  ebony  figures  shook  their  heads 
stiffly,  as  though  they  resented  this  introduc 
tion  of  a  foreign  language,  and  continued  to 
shake  their  heads  as  the  servant  addressed  the 
same  question  to  them  in  a  succession  of  strange 
tongues. 

"Well,"  said  Colonel  Erhaupt,  briskly,  as  he 
followed  Niccolas  out  upon  the  terrace,  "has 
the  boat  arrived?  And  the  launch  from  the 
yacht,"  he  continued,  "has  it  started  for  shore 

yet?" 

The  man  pointed  to  where  the  yacht  lay,  a 
mile  outside  the  harbor,  and  handed  him  the 
glass. 

"It  is  but  just  now  leaving  the  ship's  side," 
he  said.  "But  I  cannot  make  out  who  comes  in 
her.  Ah,  pardon,"  he  added  quickly,  as  he 
pointed  to  a  stout  elderly  gentleman  who  walked 
rapidly  toward  them  through  the  garden.  ;'The 
Gibraltar  boat  must  be  in,  sir.  Here  is  Baron 
Barrat  coming  up  the  path." 

Colonel  Erhaupt  gave  an  exclamation  of  satis- 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

faction,  and  waved  his  hand  to  the  newcomer 
in  welcome. 

"Go  tell  his  Majesty,"  he  said  to  the  servant. 

The  man  hesitated  and  bowed.  "His  Ma 
jesty  still  sleeps." 

"Wake  him,"  commanded  Erhaupt.  "Tell 
him  I  said  to  do  so.  Well,  Baron,"  he  cried, 
gayly,  as  he  stepped  forward,  "welcome — or 
are  you  welcome?"  he  added,  with  an  uneasy 
laugh. 

"I  should  be.  I  have  succeeded,"  the  other 
replied  gruffly,  as  he  brushed  past  him.  "Where 
is  the  King?" 

"He  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  I  have  sent 
to  wake  him.  And  you  have  been  successful? 
Good.  I  congratulate  you.  How  far  success 
ful?" 

The  Baron  threw  himself  into  one  of  the 
wicker  chairs,  and  clapped  his  hands  impa 
tiently  for  a  servant.  '' Twelve  thousand  pounds 
in  all,"  he  replied.  'That's  more  than  he  ex 
pected.  It  was  like  pulling  teeth  at  first.  I 
want  some  coffee  at  once,"  he  said  to  the  at 
tendant,  "and  a  bath.  That  boat  reeked  with 
Moors  and  cattle,  and  there  was  no  wagon-lit 
on  the  train  from  Madrid.  I  sat  up  all  night, 
and  played  cards  with  that  young  Cellini. 
Have  Madame  Zara  and  Kalonay  returned?  I 
see  the  yacht  in  the  harbor.  Did  she  succeed?" 

177 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"We  do  not  know;  the  boat  only  arrived  at 
daybreak.  They  are  probably  on  the  launch 
that  is  coming  in  now." 

As  Barrat  sipped  his  coffee  and  munched  his 
rolls  with  the  silent  energy  of  a  hungry  man,  the 
Colonel  turned  and  strode  up  and  down  the  ter 
race,  pulling  at  his  mustache  and  glancing  side 
ways.  When  the  Baron  had  lighted  a  cigarette 
and  thrown  himself  back  in  his  chair,  Erhaupt 
halted  and  surveyed  him  in  some  anxiety. 

''You  have  been  gone  over  two  weeks,"  he 
said. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  accomplish  as  much 
in  as  short  a  time,"  growled  the  other.  "You 
know  Paris.  You  know  how  hard  it  is  to  get 
people  to  be  serious  there.  I  had  the  devil's 
own  time  at  first.  You  got  my  cablegram?" 

''Yes;    it  wasn't  encouraging." 

"Well,  I  wasn't  hopeful  myself.  They 
wouldn't  believe  a  word  of  it  at  first.  They 
said  Louis  hadn't  shown  such  great  love  for 
his  country  or  his  people  since  his  exile  that 
they  could  feel  any  confidence  in  him,  and  that 
his  conduct  in  the  last  six  years  did  not  war 
rant  their  joining  any  undertaking  in  which  he 
was  concerned.  You  can't  blame  them.  They've 
backed  him  so  many  times  already,  and  they've 
been  bitten,  and  they're  shy,  naturally.  But 
I  swore  he  was  repentant,  that  he  saw  the 


THE   KING'S  JACKAL 

error  of  his  ways,  that  he  wanted  to  sit  once 
more  before  he  died  on  the  throne  of  his  ances 
tors,  and  that  he  felt  it  was  due  to  his  son  that 
he  should  make  an  effort  to  get  him  back  his 
birthright.  It  was  the  son  won  them.  'Ex 
hibit  A/  I  call  him.  None  of  them  would  hear 
of  it  until  I  spoke  of  the  Prince.  So  when  I  saw 
that,  I  told  them  he  was  a  fine  little  chap, 
healthy  and  manly  and  brave,  and  devoted  to 
his  priest,  and  all  that  rot,  and  they  began  to 
listen.  At  first  they  wanted  his  Majesty  to 
abdicate,  and  give  the  boy  a  clear  road  to  the 
crown,  but  of  course  I  hushed  that  up.  I  told 
them  we  were  acting  advisedly,  that  we  had 
reason  to  know  that  the  common  people  of  Mes 
sina  were  sick  of  the  Republic,  and  wanted 
their  King;  that  Louis  loved  the  common  peo 
ple  like  a  father;  that  he  would  re-establish 
the  Church  in  all  her  power,  and  that  Father 
Paul  was  working  day  and  night  for  us,  and 
that  the  Vatican  was  behind  us.  Then  I  dealt 
out  decorations  and  a  few  titles,  which  Louis 
has  made  smell  so  confoundedly  rank  to  Heaven 
that  nobody  would  take  them.  It  was  like  a 
game.  I  played  one  noble  gentleman  against 
another,  and  gave  this  one  a  portrait  of  the  King 
one  day,  and  the  other  a  miniature  of  'Exhibit 
A'  the  next,  and  they  grew  jealous,  and  met 
together,  and  talked  it  over,  and  finally  un- 

179 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

locked  their  pockets.  They  contributed  about 
£9,000  between  them.  Then  the  enthusiasm 
spread  to  the  women,  and  they  gave  me  their 
jewels,  and  a  lot  of  youngsters  volunteered  for 
the  expedition,  and  six  of  them  came  on  with 
me  in  the  train  last  night.  I  won  two  thou 
sand  francs  from  that  boy  Cellini  on  the  way 
down.  They're  all  staying  at  the  Continental. 
I  promised  them  an  audience  this  morning." 

"Good,"   commented  the  Colonel,    "good— 
£9,000.     I   suppose  you  took  out  your  com 
mission  in  advance?" 

"I  took  out  nothing,"  returned  the  other, 
angrily.  "I  brought  it  all  with  me,  and  I  have 
a  letter  from  each  of  them  stating  just  what  he 
or  she  subscribed  toward  the  expedition, — the 
Duke  Dantiz,  so  much;  the  Duke  D'Orvay, 
50,000  francs;  the  Countess  Mattini,  a  dia 
mond  necklace.  It  is  all  quite  regular.  I 
played  fair." 

The  Colonel  had  stopped  in  his  walk,  and 
had  been  peering  eagerly  down  the  leafy  path 
through  the  garden.  "Is  that  not  Zara  coming 
now?"  he  asked.  "Look,  your  eyes  are  better 
than  mine." 

Barrat  rose  quickly,  and  the  two  men  walked 
forward,  and  bowed  with  the  easy  courtesy 
of  old  comrades  to  a  tall,  fair  girl  who  came 
hurriedly  up  the  steps.  The  Countess  Zara 

1 80 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

was  a  young  woman,  but  one  who  had  stood 
so  long  on  guard  against  the  world,  that  the 
strain  had  told,  and  her  eyes  were  hard  and  un- 
trustful,  so  that  she  looked  much  older  than 
she  really  was.  Her  life  was  of  two  parts. 
There  was  little  to  be  told  of  the  first  part;  she 
was  an  English  girl  who  had  come  from  a  manu 
facturing  town  to  study  art  and  live  alone  in 
Paris,  where  she  had  been  too  indolent  to  work, 
and  too  brilliant  to  remain  long  without  com 
panions  eager  for  her  society.  Through  them 
and  the  stories  of  her  wit  and  her  beauty,  she 
had  come  to  know  the  King  of  Messina,  and 
with  that  meeting  the  second  part  of  her  life 
began;  for  she  had  found  something  so  attrac 
tive,  either  in  his  title  or  in  the  cynical  humor 
of  the  man  himself,  that  for  the  last  two  years 
she  had  followed  his  fortunes,  and  Miss  Muriel 
Winter,  art  student,  had  become  the  Countess 
Zara,  and  an  uncrowned  queen.  She  was  beau 
tiful,  with  great  masses  of  yellow  hair  and  won 
derful  brown  eyes.  Her  manner  when  she  spoke 
seemed  to  show  that  she  despised  the  world 
and  those  in  it  almost  as  thoroughly  as  she 
despised  herself. 

On  the  morning  of  her  return  from  Messina, 
she  wore  a  blue  serge  yachting  suit  with  a  golf 
cloak  hanging  from  her  shoulders,  and  as  she 
crossed  the  terrace  she  pulled  nervously  at  her 

181 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

gloves  and  held  out  her  hand  covered  with 
jewels  to  each  of  the  two  men. 

"I  bring  good  news,"  she  said,  with  an  ex 
cited  laugh.  "Where  is  Louis?" 

"I  will  tell  his  Majesty  that  you  have  come. 
You  are  most  welcome,"  the  Baron  answered. 

But  as  he  turned  to  the  door  it  opened  from 
the  inside  and  the  King  came  toward  them, 
shivering  and  blinking  his  eyes  in  the  bright 
sunlight.  It  showed  the  wrinkles  and  creases 
around  his  mouth  and  the  blue  veins  under  the 
mottled  skin,  and  the  tiny  lines  at  the  corners 
of  his  little  bloodshot  eyes  that  marked  the  pace 
at  which  he  had  lived  as  truthfully  as  the  rings 
on  a  tree-trunk  tell  of  its  quiet  growth. 

He  caught  up  his  long  dressing-gown  across 
his  chest  as  though  it  were  a  mantle,  and  with  a 
quick  glance  to  see  that  there  were  no  other 
witnesses  to  his  dishabille,  bent  and  kissed  the 
woman's  hand,  and  taking  it  in  his  own  stroked 
it  gently. 

"My  dear  Marie,"  he  lisped,  "it  is  like  heaven 
to  have  you  back  with  us  again.  We  have  felt 
your  absence  every  hour.  Pray  be  seated,  and 
pardon  my  robe.  I  saw  you  through  the  blinds 
and  could  not  wait.  Tell  us  the  glorious  news. 
The  Baron's  good  words  I  have  already  over 
heard;  I  listened  to  them  with  great  enter 
tainment  while  I  was  dressing.  I  hoped  he 

182 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

would  say  something  discourteous  or  foolish, 
but  he  was  quite  discreet  until  he  told  Erhaupt 
that  he  had  kept  back  none  of  the  money.  Then 
I  lost  interest.  Fiction  is  never  so  entertain 
ing  to  me  as  the  truth  and  real  people.  But 
tell  us  now  of  your  mission  and  of  all  you  did; 
and  whether  successful  or  not,  be  assured  you 
are  most  welcome." 

The  Countess  Zara  smiled  at  him  doubtfully 
and  crossed  her  hands  in  her  lap,  glancing  anx 
iously  over  her  shoulder. 

"I  must  be  very  brief,  for  Kalonay  and 
Father  Paul  are  close  behind  me,"  she  said. 
"They  only  stopped  for  a  moment  at  the  cus 
tom-house.  Keep  watch,  Baron,  and  tell  me 
when  you  see  them  coming." 

Barrat  moved  his  chair  so  that  it  faced  the 
garden-path,  the  King  crossed  his  legs  com 
fortably  and  wrapped  his  padded  dressing-robe 
closer  around  his  slight  figure,  and  Erhaupt 
stood  leaning  on  the  back  of  his  chair  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  fine,  insolent  beauty  of  the 
woman  before  them. 

She  nodded  her  head  toward  the  soldiers 
who  sat  at  the  entrance  to  the  terrace,  as  silent 
and  immovable  as  blind  beggars  before  a  mosque. 
"Do  they  understand?"  she  asked. 

"No,"  the  King  assured  her.  "They  under 
stand  nothing  but  that  they  are  to  keep  people 

183 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

away  from  me — and  they  do  it  very  well.  I 
wish  I  could  import  them  to  Paris  to  help  Nic- 
colas  fight  off  creditors.  Continue,  we  are  most 
impatient." 

"We  left  here  last  Sunday  night,  as  you 
know,"  she  said.  "We  passed  Algiers  the  next 
morning  and  arrived  off  the  island  at  mid-day, 
anchoring  outside  in  the  harbor.  We  flew  the 
Royal  Yacht  Squadron's  pennant,  and  an  own 
er's  private  signal  that  we  invented  on  the  way 
down.  They  sent  me  ashore  in  a  boat,  and  Ka- 
lonay  and  Father  Paul  continued  on  along  the 
southern  shore,  where  they  have  been  making 
speeches  in  all  the  coast-towns  and  exciting 
the  people  in  favor  of  the  revolution.  I  heard 
of  them  often  while  I  was  at  the  capital,  but 
not  from  them.  The  President  sent  a  company 
of  carbineers  to  arrest  them  the  very  night  they 
returned  and  smuggled  me  on  board  the  yacht 
again.  We  put  off  as  soon  as  I  came  over  the 
side  and  sailed  directly  here. 

"As  soon  as  I  landed  on  Tuesday  I  went  to 
the  Hotel  de  Messina,  and  sent  my  card  to  the 
President.  He  is  that  man  Palaccio,  the  hotel- 
keeper's  son,  the  man  you  sent  out  of  the  coun 
try  for  writing  pamphlets  against  the  mon 
archy,  and  who  lived  in  Sicily  during  his  exile. 
He  gave  me  an  audience  at  once,  and  I  told  my 
story.  As  he  knew  who  I  was,  I  explained  that 

184 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

I  had  quarrelled  with  you,  and  that  I  was  now 
prepared  to  sell  him  the  secrets  of  an  expedition 
which  you  were  fitting  out  with  the  object  of 
re-establishing  yourself  on  the  throne.  He 
wouldn't  believe  that  there  was  any  such  expe 
dition,  and  said  it  was  blackmail,  and  threat 
ened  to  give  me  to  the  police  if  I  did  not  leave 
the  island  in  twenty-four  hours — he  was  ex 
ceedingly  rude.  So  I  showed  him  receipts  for 
ammunition  and  rifles  and  Maxim  guns,  and 
copies  of  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  expedi 
tion,  and  papers  of  the  yacht,  in  which  she  was 
described  as  an  armored  cruiser,  and  he  rapidly 
grew  polite,  even  humble,  and  I  made  him 
apologize  first,  and  then  take  me  out  to  lunch 
eon.  That  was  the  first  day.  The  second  day 
telegrams  began  to  come  in  from  the  coast- 
towns,  saying  that  the  Prince  Kalonay  and 
Father  Paul  were  preaching  and  exciting  the 
people  to  rebellion,  and  travelling  from  town 
to  town  in  a  man-of-war.  Then  he  was  fright 
ened.  The  Prince  with  his  popularity  in  the 
south  was  alarming  enough,  but  the  Prince  and 
Father  Superior  to  help  him  seemed  to  mean  the 
end  of  the  Republic. 

"I  learned  while  I  was  down  there  that  the 
people  think  the  father  put  some  sort  of  a  ban 
on  every  one  who  had  anything  to  do  with  driv 
ing  the  Dominican  monks  out  of  the  island  and 

185 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

with  the  destruction  of  the  monasteries.  I 
don't  know  whether  he  did  or  not,  but  they  be 
lieve  he  did,  which  is  the  same  thing,  and  that 
superstitious  little  beast,  the  President,  cer 
tainly  believed  it;  he  attributed  everything 
that  had  gone  wrong  on  the  island  to  that  cause. 
Why,  if  a  second  cousin  of  the  wife  of  a  brother 
of  one  of  the  men  who  helped  to  fire  a  church 
falls  off  his  horse  and  breaks  his  leg  they  say 
that  he  is  under  the  curse  of  the  Father  Supe 
rior,  and  there  are  many  who  believe  the  Repub 
lic  will  never  succeed  until  Paul  returns  and  the 
Church  is  re-established.  The  Government 
seems  to  have  kept  itself  well  informed  about 
your  Majesty's  movements,  and  it  has  never 
felt  any  anxiety  that  you  would  attempt  to  re 
turn,  and  it  did  not  fear  the  Church  party  be 
cause  it  knew  that  without  you  the  priests  could 
do  nothing.  But  when  Paul,  whom  the  common 
people  look  upon  as  a  living  saint  and  martyr, 
returned  hand  in  hand  writh  your  man  Friday, 
they  were  in  a  panic  and  felt  sure  the  end  had 
come.  So  the  President  called  a  hasty  meeting 
of  his  Cabinet.  And  such  a  Cabinet !  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  them,  Louis,  with  me  in 
the  centre  playing  on  them  like  an  advocate 
before  a  jury.  They  were  the  most  dreadful 
men  I  ever  met,  bourgeois  and  stupid  and  ugly 
to  a  degree.  Two  of  them  were  commission- 

186 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

merchants,  and  one  of  them  is  old  Dr.  Gusta- 
vanni,  who  kept  the  chemist's  shop  in  the 
Piazza  Royale.  They  were  quite  silly  with 
fear,  and  they  begged  me  to  tell  them  how  they 
could  avert  the  fall  of  the  Republic  and  prevent 
your  landing.  And  I  said  that  it  was  entirely 
a  question  of  money;  that  if  we  were  paid  suf 
ficiently  the  expedition  would  not  land  and  we 
would  leave  them  in  peace,  but  that— 

The  King  shifted  his  legs  uneasily,  and 
coughed  behind  his  thin,  pink  fingers. 

'That  was  rather  indiscreet,  was  it  not, 
Marie?"  he  murmured.  "The  idea  was  to 
make  them  think  that  I,  at  least,  was  sincere; 
was  not  that  it?  To  make  it  appear  that 
though  there  were  traitors  in  his  camp,  the 
King  was  in  most  desperate  earnest?  If  they 
believe  that,  you  see,  it  will  allow  me  to  raise 
another  expedition  as  soon  as  the  money  we 
get  for  this  one  is  gone;  but  if  you  have  let 
them  know  that  I  am  the  one  who  is  selling  out, 
you  have  killed  the  goose  that  lays  the  golden 
eggs.  They  will  never  believe  us  when  we  cry 
wolf  again— 

"You  must  let  me  finish,"  Zara  interrupted. 
"  I  did  not  involve  you  in  the  least.  I  said  that 
there  were  traitors  in  the  camp  of  whom  I  was 
the  envoy,  and  that  if  they  would  pay  us  300,- 
ooo  francs  we  would  promise  to  allow  the  ex- 

.87 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

pedition  only  to  leave  the  yacht.  Their  troops 
could  then  make  a  show  of  attacking  our  land 
ing-party  and  we  would  raise  the  cry  of  'treach 
ery  '  and  retreat  to  the  boats.  By  this  we  would 
accomplish  two  things, — we  would  satisfy  those 
who  had  contributed  funds  toward  the  expedi 
tion  that  we  had  at  least  made  an  honest  effort, 
and  your  Majesty  would  be  discouraged  by 
such  treachery  from  ever  attempting  another 
attack.  The  money  was  to  be  paid  two  weeks 
later  in  Paris,  to  me  or  to  whoever  brings  this 
ring  that  I  wear.  The  plan  we  finally  agreed 
upon  is  this:  The  yacht  is  to  anchor  off  Basnai 
next  Thursday  night.  At  high  tide,  which  is 
just  about  daybreak,  we  are  to  lower  our  boats 
and  land  our  men  on  that  long  beach  to  the 
south  of  the  breakwater.  The  troops  of  the 
Republic  are  to  lie  hidden  in  the  rocks  until  our 
men  have  formed.  Then  they  are  to  fire  over 
their  heads,  and  we  are  to  retreat  in  great  con 
fusion,  return  to  the  yacht,  and  sail  away.  Two 
weeks  later  they  are  to  pay  the  money  into  my 
hands,  or,"  she  added,  with  a  smile,  as  she  held 
up  her  fourth  finger,  "to  whoever  brings  this 
ring.  And  I  need  not  say  that  the  ring  will  not 
leave  my  finger." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  as  though  the 
men  were  waiting  to  learn  if  she  had  more  to  tell, 
and  then  the  King  threw  back  his  head  and 

1 88 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

laughed  softly.  He  saw  Erhaupt's  face  above 
his  shoulder,  filled  with  the  amazement  and  in 
dignation  of  a  man  who  as  a  duellist  and  as  a 
soldier  had  shown  a  certain  brute  courage,  and 
the  King  laughed  again. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  Colonel?"  he 
cried,  gayly.  "They  are  a  noble  race,  my  late 
subjects." 

"Bah!"  exclaimed  the  German.  "I  didn't 
know  we  were  dealing  with  a  home  for  old 
women." 

The  Baron  laughed  comfortably.  "It  is  like 
taking  money  from  a  blind  beggar's  hat,"  he 
said. 

"Why,  with  two  hundred  men  that  I  could 
pick  up  in  London,"  Erhaupt  declared,  con 
temptuously,  "I  would  guarantee  to  put  you 
on  the  throne  in  a  fortnight." 

"Heaven    forbid!"    exclaimed    his    Majesty. 
"So  they  surrendered  as  quickly  as  that,  did 
-they?"    he    asked,    nodding    toward    Madame 
Zara  to  continue. 

The  Countess  glanced  again  over  her  shoulder 
and  bit  her  lips  in  some  chagrin.  Her  eyes 
showed  her  disappointment.  "It  may  seem  an 
easy  victory  to  you,"  she  said,  consciously,  "but 
I  doubt,  knowing  all  the  circumstances,  if  any  of 
your  Majesty's  gentlemen  could  have  served 
you  as  well.  It  needed  a  woman  and— 

189 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"It  needed  a  beautiful  woman,"  interrupted 
the  King  quickly,  in  a  tone  that  he  would  have 
used  to  a  spoiled  child.  "It  needed  a  woman 
of  tact,  a  woman  of  courage,  a  woman  among 
women — the  Countess  Zara.  Do  not  imagine, 
Marie,  that  we  undervalue  your  part.  It  is 
their  lack  of  courage  that  distresses  Colonel 
Erhaupt." 

"One  of  them,  it  is  true,  did  wish  to  fight," 
the  Countess  continued,  with  a  smile;  "a 
Frenchman  named  Renauld,  whom  they  have 
put  in  charge  of  the  army.  He  scoffed  at  the 
whole  expedition,  but  they  told  him  that  a  for 
eigner  could  not  understand  as  they  did  the 
danger  of  the  popularity  of  the  Prince  Kalonay, 
who,  by  a  speech  or  two  among  the  shepherds 
and  fishermen,  could  raise  an  army." 

The  King  snapped  his  fingers  impatiently. 

"An  army  of  brigands  and  smugglers!"  he 
exclaimed.  "That  for  his  popularity!"  But 
he  instantly  raised  his  hands  as  though  in  pro 
test  at  his  own  warmth  of  speech  and  in  apology 
for  his  outbreak. 

"His  zeal  will  ruin  us  in  time.  He  is  deucedly 
in  the  way,"  he  continued,  in  his  usual  tone  of 
easy  cynicism.  "We  should  have  let  him  into 
our  plans  from  the  first,  and  then  if  he  chose  to 
take  no  part  in  them  we  would  at  least  have 
had  a  free  hand.  As  it  is  now,  we  have  three 

190 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

different  people  to  deceive :  this  Cabinet  of  shop 
keepers,  which  seems  easy  enough;  Father  Paul 
and  his  fanatics  of  the  Church  party;  and  this 
apostle  of  the  divine  right  of  kings,  Kalonay. 
And  he  and  the  good  father  are  not  fools— 

At  these  words  Madame  Zara  glanced  again 
toward  the  garden,  and  this  time  with  such  evi 
dent  uneasiness  in  her  face  that  Barrat  eyed 
her  with  quick  suspicion. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  sharply.  " There  is 
something  you  have  not  told  us." 

The  woman  looked  at  the  King,  and  he 
nodded  his  head  as  though  in  assent.  "I  had 
to  tell  them  who  else  was  in  the  plot  besides 
myself,"  she  said,  speaking  rapidly.  "I  had 
to  give  them  the  name  of  some  man  who,  they 
knew,  would  be  able  to  do  what  I  have  promised 
we  could  do — who  could  put  a  stop  to  the  revo 
lution.  The  name  I  gave  was  his — Kalonay's." 

Barrat  threw  himself  forward  in  his  chair. 

"Kalonay's?"    he  cried  incredulously. 

"Kalonay's?"  echoed  Erhaupt.  "What  mad 
ness,  Madame !  Why  name  the  only  one  who 
is  sincere?" 

"She  will  explain,"  said  the  King,  in  an  un 
easy  voice;  "let  her  explain.  She  has  acted 
according  to  my  orders  and  for  the  best,  but  I 
confess  I— 

"Some  one  had  to  be  sacrificed,"  returned 
191 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

the  woman,  boldly,  "and  why  not  he?  In 
deed,  if  we  wish  to  save  ourselves,  there  is  every 
reason  that  it  should  be  he.  You  know  how 
mad  he  is  for  the  King's  return,  how  he  himself 
wishes  to  get  back  to  the  island  and  to  his  old 
position  there.  Why,  God  only  knows,  but  it 
is  so.  What  pleasure  he  finds  in  a  land  of  mists 
and  fogs,  in  a  ruined  castle  with  poachers  and 
smuggling  fishermen  for  companions,  I  cannot 
comprehend.  But  the  fact  remains,  he  always 
speaks  of  it  as  home  and  he  wishes  to  re 
turn.  And  now,  suppose  he  learns  the  truth, 
as  he  may  at  any  moment,  and  discovers  that 
the  whole  expedition  for  which  he  is  staking  his 
soul  and  life  is  a  trick,  a  farce;  that  we  use  it 
only  as  a  bait  to  draw  money  from  the  old  no 
bility,  and  to  frighten  the  Republic  into  paying 
us  to  leave  them  in  peace?  How  do  we  know 
what  he  might  not  do?  He  may  tell  the  whole 
of  Europe.  He  may  turn  on  you  and  expose 
you,  and  then  what  have  we  left?  It  is  your 
last  chance.  It  is  our  last  chance.  We  have 
tried  everything  else,  and  we  cannot  show  our 
selves  in  Europe,  at  least  not  without  money 
in  our  hands.  But  by  naming  Kalonay  I  have 
managed  it  so  that  we  have  only  to  show  the 
written  agreement  I  have  made  with  the  Re 
public  and  he  is  silenced.  In  it  they  have  prom 
ised  to  pay  the  Prince  Kalonay,  naming  him 

192 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

in  full,  300,000  francs  if  the  expedition  is  with 
drawn.  That  agreement  is  in  my  hands,  and 
that  is  our  answer  to  whatever  he  may  think 
or  say.  Our  word  is  as  good  as  his,  or  as  bad; 
we  are  all  of  the  same  party  as  far  as  Europe 
cares,  and  it  becomes  a  falling  out  among 
thieves,  and  we  are  equal." 

Baron  Barrat  leaned  forward  and  marked 
each  word  with  a  movement  of  his  hand. 

"Do  I  understand  you  to  say,"  he  asked, 
"that  you  have  a  paper  signed  by  the  Repub 
lic  agreeing  to  pay  300,000  francs  to  Kalonay? 
Then  how  are  we  to  get  it?"  he  demanded,  in 
credulously.  "From  him?" 

"It  is  made  payable  to  him,"  continued  the 
woman,  "or  to  whoever  brings  this  ring  I  wear 
to  the  banking-house  of  the  Schlevingens  two 
weeks  after  the  expedition  has  left  the  island. 
I  explained  that  clause  to  them  by  saying  that 
Kalonay  and  I  were  working  together  against 
the  King,  and  as  he  might  be  suspicious  if  we 
were  both  to  leave  him  so  soon  after  the  failure 
of  the  expedition  we  would  be  satisfied  if  they 
gave  the  money  to  whichever  one  first  presented 
the  ring.  Suppose  I  had  said,"  she  went  on, 
turning  to  the  King,  "that  it  was  either  Barrat 
or  the  Colonel  here  who  had  turned  traitor. 
They  know  the  Baron  of  old,  when  he  was 
Chamberlain  and  ran  your  roulette-wrheel  at 

193 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

the  palace.  They  know  he  is  not  the  man  to 
turn  back  an  expedition.  And  the  Colonel,  if 
he  will  pardon  me,  has  sold  his  services  so  often 
to  one  side  or  another  that  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  make  them  believe  that  this  time  he 
is  sincere.  But  Kalonay,  the  man  they  fear 
most  next  to  your  Majesty — to  have  him  turn 
traitor,  why,  that  was  a  master  stroke.  Even 
those  boors,  stupid  as  they  are,  saw  that.  When 
they  made  out  the  agreement  they  put  down 
all  his  titles,  and  laughed  as  they  wrote  them  in. 
*  Prince  Judas'  they  called  him,  and  they  were 
in  ecstasies  at  the  idea  of  the  aristocrat  suing 
for  blood-money  against  his  sovereign,  of  the 
man  they  feared  showing  himself  to  be  only  a 
common  blackmailer.  It  delighted  them  to  find 
a  prince  royal  sunk  lower  than  themselves,  this 
man  who  has  treated  them  like  curs — like  the 
curs  they  are,"  she  broke  out  suddenly — "like 
the  curs  they  are!" 

She  rose  and  laughed  uneasily  as  though  at 
her  own  vehemence. 

"I  am  tired,"  she  said,  avoiding  the  King's 
eyes;  "the  trip  has  tired  me.  If  you  will  ex 
cuse  me,  I  will  go  to  my  rooms — through  your 
hallway,  if  I  may." 

"Most  certainly,"  said  the  King.  "I  trust 
you  will  be  rested  by  dinner-time.  Au  revoir, 
my  fair  ambassadrice." 

194 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

The  woman  nodded  and  smiled  back  at  him 
brightly,  and  Louis  continued  to  look  after  her 
as  she  disappeared  down  the  corridor.  He 
rubbed  the  back  of  his  fingers  across  his  lips, 
and  thoughtfully  examined  his  finger-nails. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  looking  up 
at  Barrat.  The  Baron  raised  his  eyebrows  with 
a  glance  of  polite  interrogation. 

"  I  wonder  if  Kalonay  dared  to  make  love  to 
her  on  the  way  down." 

The  Baron's  face  became  as  expressionless  as 
a  death-mask,  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  in 
protest. 

—Or  did  she  make  love  to  Kalonay?"  the 
King  insisted,  laughing  gently.  "I  wonder 
now.  I  do  not  care  to  know,  but  I  wonder." 

According  to  tradition  the  Kalonay  family 
was  an  older  one  than  that  of  the  House  of  Ar- 
tois,  and  its  name  had  always  been  the  one  next 
in  importance  to  that  of  the  reigning  house. 
The  history  of  Messina  showed  that  different 
members  of  the  Kalonay  family  had  fought 
and  died  for  different  kings  of  Artois,  and  had 
enjoyed  their  favor  and  shared  their  reverses 
with  equal  dignity,  and  that  they  had  stood 
like  a  rampart  when  the  kingdom  was  invaded 
by  the  levelling  doctrines  of  Republicanism 
and  equality.  And  though  the  Kalonays  were 
men  of  stouter  stuff  than  their  cousins  of  Ar- 

195 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

tois,  they  had  never  tried  to  usurp  their  place, 
but  had  set  an  example  to  the  humblest  shep 
herd  of  unfailing  loyalty  and  good-will  to  the 
King  and  his  lady.  The  Prince  Kalonay,  who 
had  accompanied  the  Dominican  monk  to  Mes 
sina,  was  the  last  of  his  race,  and  when  Louis 
IV  had  been  driven  off  the  island,  he  had  fol 
lowed  his  sovereign  into  exile  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  with  his  customary  good-humor. 
His  estates,  in  consequence  of  this  step,  had 
been  taken  up  by  the  Republic,  and  Kalonay 
had  accepted  the  loss  philosophically  as  the 
price  one  pays  for  loving  a  king.  He  found 
exile  easy  to  bear  in  Paris,  and  especially  so  as 
he  had  never  relinquished  the  idea  that  some 
day  the  King  would  return  to  his  own  again. 
So  firmly  did  he  believe  in  this,  and  so  keenly 
was  his  heart  set  upon  it,  that  Louis  had  never 
dared  to  let  him  know  that  for  himself  exile  in 
Paris  and  the  Riviera  was  vastly  to  be  pre 
ferred  to  authority  over  a  rocky  island  hung 
with  fogs,  and  inhabited  by  dull  merchants  and 
fierce  banditti. 

The  conduct  of  the  King  during  their  resi 
dence  in  Paris  would  have  tried  the  loyalty  of 
one  less  gay  and  careless  than  Kalonay,  for  he 
was  a  sorry  monarch,  and  if  the  principle  that 
"the  King  can  do  no  wrong"  had  not  been  bred 
in  the  young  Prince's  mind,  he  would  have  de- 

196 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

serted  his  sovereign  in  the  early  days  of  their 
exile.  But  as  it  was,  he  made  excuses  for  him 
to  others  and  to  himself,  and  served  the  King's 
idle  purposes  so  well  that  he  gained  for  himself 
the  name  of  the  King's  Jackal,  and  there  were 
some  who  regarded  him  as  little  better  than  the 
King's  confidential  blackguard,  and  man  Fri 
day,  the  weakest  if  the  most  charming  of  his 
court  of  adventurers. 

At  the  first  hint  which  the  King  gave  of  his 
desire  to  place  himself  again  in  power,  Kalonay 
had  ceased  to  be  his  Jackal  and  would  have 
issued  forth  as  a  commander-in-chief,  had  the 
King  permitted  him;  but  it  was  not  to  Louis's 
purpose  that  the  Prince  should  know  the  real 
object  of  the  expedition,  so  he  assigned  its 
preparation  to  Erhaupt,  and  despatched  Ka 
lonay  to  the  south  of  the  island.  At  the  same 
time  Madame  Zara  had  been  sent  to  the  north 
of  the  island,  ostensibly  to  sound  the  sentiment 
of  the  old  nobility,  but  in  reality  to  make  capi 
tal  out  of  the  presence  there  of  Kalonay  and 
Father  Paul. 

The  King  rose  hurriedly  when  the  slim  figure 
of  the  Prince  and  the  broad  shoulders  and  ton 
sured  head  of  the  monk  appeared  at  the  farthest 
end  of  the  garden-walk. 

'They  are  coming!"  he  cried,  with  a  guilty 
chuckle;  "so  I  shall  run  away  and  finish  dress- 

197 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

ing.  I  leave  you  to  receive  the  first  shock  of 
Kalonay's  enthusiasm  alone.  I  confess  he  bores 
me.  Remember,  the  story  Madame  Zara  told 
them  in  the  yacht  is  the  one  she  told  us  this 
morning,  that  none  of  the  old  royalists  at  the 
capital  would  promise  us  any  assistance.  Be 
careful  now,  and  play  your  parts  prettily.  We 
are  all  terribly  in  earnest." 

Kalonay's  enthusiasm  had  not  spent  itself 
entirely  before  the  King  returned.  He  had  still 
a  number  of  amusing  stories  to  tell,  and  he  re 
viewed  the  adventures  of  the  monk  and  himself 
with  such  vivacity  and  humor  that  the  King 
nodded  his  head  in  delight,  and  even  the  priest 
smiled  indulgently  at  the  recollection. 

Kalonay  had  seated  himself  on  one  of  the 
tables,  with  his  feet  on  a  chair  and  with  a 
cigarette  burning  between  his  fingers.  He  was 
a  handsome,  dark  young  man  of  thirty,  with  the 
impulsive  manner  of  a  boy.  Dissipation  had  left 
no  trace  on  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  as  inno 
cent  of  evil  and  as  beautiful  as  a  girl's,  and  as 
eloquent  as  his  tongue.  "May  the  Maria  San- 
tissima  pity  the  girls  they  look  upon,"  his  old 
Spanish  nurse  used  to  say  of  them.  But  Ka 
lonay  had  shown  pity  for  every  one  save  him 
self.  His  training  at  an  English  public  school, 
and  later  as  a  soldier  in  the  £cole  Polytechnique 
at  Paris,  had  saved  him  from  a  too  early  fall, 

198 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

and  men  liked  him  instinctively,  and  the  women 
much  too  well. 

"It  was  good  to  be  back  there  again,"  he 
cried,  with  a  happy  sigh.  "It  was  good  to  see 
the  clouds  following  each  other  across  the  old 
mountains  and  throwing  black  shadows  on  the 
campagna,  and  to  hear  the  people's  patois  and 
to  taste  Messinian  wine  again  and  to  know  it 
was  from  your  own  hillside.  AH  our  old  keep 
ers  came  down  to  the  coast  to  meet  us,  and  told 
me  about  the  stag-hunt  the  week  before,  and 
who  was  married,  and  who  was  in  jail,  and  who 
had  been  hanged  for  shooting  a  customs  officer, 
and  they  promised  fine  deer  stalking  if  I  get 
back  before  the  snow  leaves  the  ridges,  for  they 
say  the  deer  have  not  been  hunted  and  are  run 
ning  wild."  He  stopped  and  laughed.  "I  for 
got,"  he  said,  "your  Majesty  does  not  care  for 
the  rude  pleasures  of  my  half  of  the  island." 
Kalonay  threw  away  his  cigarette,  clasping  his 
hands  before  him  with  a  sudden  change  of 
manner. 

"But  seriously,"  he  cried,  "as  I  have  been 
telling  them — I  wish  your  Majesty  could  have 
heard  the  offers  they  made  us,  and  could  have 
seen  the  tears  running  down  their  faces  when 
we  assured  them  that  you  would  return.  I 
wished  a  thousand  times  that  we  had  brought 
you  with  us.  With  you  at  our  head  we  can 

199 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

sweep  the  island  from  one  end  to  the  other. 
We  will  gather  strength  and  force  as  we  go,  as 
a  landslide  grows,  and  when  we  reach  the  capi 
tal  we  will  strike  it  like  a  human  avalanche. 

"And  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  him 
speak,"  Kalonay  cried,  his  enthusiasm  rising  as 
he  turned  and  pointed  with  his  hand  at  the 
priest.  "There  is  the  leader!  He  made  my 
blood  turn  hot  with  his  speeches,  and  when  he 
had  finished  I  used  to  find  myself  standing  on 
my  tiptoes  and  shouting  with  the  rest.  With 
out  him  I  could  have  done  nothing.  They  knew 
me  too  well;  but  the  laziest  rascals  in  the  vil 
lage  came  to  welcome  him  again,  and  the 
women  and  men  wept  before  him  and  brought 
their  children  to  be  blessed,  and  fell  on  their 
knees  and  kissed  his  sandals.  It  was  like  the 
stories  they  tell  you  when  you  are  a  child.  He 
made  us  sob  with  regret  and  he  filled  us  with 
fresh  resolves.  Oh,  it  is  very  well  for  you  to 
smile,  you  old  cynics,"  he  cried,  smiling  at  his 
own  fervor,  "but  I  tell  you,  I  have  lived  since 
I  saw  you  last!" 

The  priest  stood  silent  with  his  hands  hidden 
inside  his  great  sleeves,  and  his  head  rising 
erect  and  rigid  from  his  cowl.  The  eyes  of  the 
men  were  turned  upon  him  curiously,  and  he 
glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  as  though  mis 
trusting  their  sympathy. 

200 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"It  was  not  me — it  was  the  Church  they 
came  to  welcome.  The  fools,"  he  cried  bitterly, 
"they  thought  they  could  destroy  the  faith  of 
the  people  by  banishing  the  servants  of  the 
Church.  As  soon  end  a  mother's  love  for  her 
children  by  putting  an  ocean  between  them. 
For  six  years  those  peasants  have  been  true.  I 
left  them  faithful,  I  returned  to  find  them 
faithful.  And  now—  '  he  concluded,  looking 
steadily  at  the  King  as  though  to  hold  him  to 
account,  "and  now  they  are  to  have  their  re 
ward." 

The  King  bowed  his  head  gravely  in  assent. 
'They  are  to  have  their  reward,"  he  repeated. 
He  rose  and  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  invited 
the  priest  to  follow  him,  and  they  walked  to 
gether  to  the  other  end  of  the  terrace.  When 
they  were  out  of  hearing  of  the  others  the  King 
seated  himself,  and  the  priest  halted  beside  his 
chair. 

"I  wish  to  speak  with  you,  father,"  Louis 
said,  "concerning  this  young  American  girl, 
Miss  Carson,  who  has  promised  to  help  us — to 
help  you — with  her  money.  Has  she  said  yet 
how  much  she  means  to  give  us,"  asked  the 
King,  "and  when  she  means  to  let  us  have  it? 
It  is  a  delicate  matter,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  urge 
the  lady,  but  we  are  really  greatly  in  need  of 
money.  Baron  Barrat,  who  arrived  from  Paris 

201 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

this  morning,  brings  back  no  substantial  aid, 
although  the  sympathy  of  the  old  nobility,  he 
assures  me,  is  with  us.  Sympathy,  however, 
does  not  purchase  Maxim  guns,  nor  pay  for  ra 
tions,  and  Madame  Zara's  visit  to  the  capital 
was,  as  you  know,  even  less  successful." 

"Your  Majesty  has  seen  Miss  Carson,  then?'* 
the  priest  asked. 

"Yes,  her  mother  and  she  have  been  staying 
at  the  Continental  ever  since  they  followed  you 
here  from  Paris,  and  I  have  seen  her  once  or 
twice  during  your  absence.  The  young  lady 
seems  an  earnest  daughter  of  our  faith,  and  she 
is  deeply  in  sympathy  with  our  effort  to  re-es 
tablish  your  order  and  the  influence  of  the 
Church  upon  the  island.  I  have  explained  to 
her  that  the  only  way  in  which  the  Church  can 
regain  her  footing  there  is  through  my  return 
to  the  throne,  and  Miss  Carson  has  hinted  that 
she  is  willing  to  make  even  a  larger  contribu 
tion  than  the  one  she  first  mentioned.  If  she 
means  to  do  this,  it  would  be  well  if  she  did  it 
at  once." 

"Perhaps  I  have  misunderstood  her,"  said  the 
priest,  after  a  moment's  consideration;  "but  I 
thought  the  sum  she  meant  to  contribute  was 
to  be  given  only  after  the  monarchy  has  been 
formally  established,  and  that  she  wished  what 
ever  she  gave  to  be  used  exclusively  in  rebuild- 

202 


THE   KING'S  JACKAL 

ing  the  churches  and  the  monastery.  I  do  not 
grudge  it  to  your  Majesty's  purpose,  but  so  I 
understood  her." 

"Ah,  that  is  quite  possible,"  returned  Louis, 
easily;  "it  may  be  that  she  did  so  intend  at 
first,  but  since  I  have  talked  with  her  she  has 
shown  a  willing  disposition  to  aid  us  not  only 
later,  but  now.  My  success  means  your  suc 
cess,"  he  continued,  smiling  pleasantly  as  he 
rose  to  his  feet,  "so  I  trust  you  will  urge  her  to 
be  prompt.  She  seems  to  have  unlimited  re 
sources  in  her  own  right.  Do  you  happen  to 
know  from  whence  her  money  comes?" 

"Her  mother  told  me,"  said  the  priest,  "that 
Mr.  Carson  before  his  death  owned  mines  and 
railroads.  They  live  in  California,  near  the 
Mission  of  Saint  Francis.  I  have  written  con 
cerning  them  to  the  Father  Superior  there,  and 
he  tells  me  that  Mr.  Carson  died  a  very  rich 
man,  and  that  he  was  a  generous  servant  of  the 
Church.  His  daughter  has  but  just  inherited 
her  father's  fortune,  and  her  one  idea  of  using 
it  is  to  give  it  to  the  Church,  as  he  would  have 
done." 

The  priest  paused  and  seemed  to  consider 
what  the  King  had  just  told  him.  "I  will 
speak  with  her,"  he  said,  "and  ask  her  aid  as 
fully  as  she  can  give  it.  May  I  inquire  how 
far  your  Majesty  has  taken  her  into  our  plans?" 

203 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"Miss  Carson  is  fully  informed,"  the  King 
replied  briefly.  "And  if  you  wish  to  speak 
with  her  you  can  see  her  now;  she  and  her 
mother  are  coming  to  breakfast  with  me  to 
hear  the  account  of  your  visit  to  the  island.  You 
can  speak  with  her  then — and,  father,"  the 
King  added,  lowering  his  eyes  and  fingering 
the  loose  sleeve  of  the  priest's  robe,  "it  would 
be  well,  I  think,  to  have  this  presentation  of 
the  young  nobles  immediately  after  the  lunch 
eon,  while  Miss  Carson  is  still  present.  We 
might  even  make  a  little  ceremony  of  it,  and 
so  show  her  that  she  is  fully  in  our  confidence — 
that  she  is  one  of  our  most  valued  supporters. 
It  might  perhaps  quicken  her  interest  in  the 


cause. 

« 


I  see  no  reason  why  that  should  not  be," 
said  the  priest,  thoughtfully,  turning  his  eyes 
to  the  sea  below  them.  "Madame  Zara,"  he 
added,  without  moving  his  eyes,  "will  not  be 
present." 

The  King  straightened  himself  slightly,  and 
for  a  brief  moment  of  time  looked  at  the  priest 
in  silence,  but  the  monk  continued  to  gaze  stead 
ily  at  the  blue  waters. 

"Madame  Zara  will  not  be  present,"  the 
King  repeated,  coldly. 

"There  are  a  few  fishermen  and  mountain 
eers,  your  Majesty,"  the  priest  continued,  turn- 

204 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

ing  an  unconscious  countenance  to  the  King, 
"who  came  back  with  us  from  the  island. 
They  come  as  a  deputation  to  inform  your  Maj 
esty  of  the  welcome  that  waits  you,  and  I  have 
promised  them  an  audience.  If  you  will  par 
don  me  I  would  suggest  that  you  receive  these 
honest  people  at  the  same  time  with  the  others, 
and  that  his  Highness  the  Crown  Prince  be  also 
present,  and  that  he  receive  them  with  you. 
Their  anxiety  to  see  him  is  only  second  to  their 
desire  to  speak  to  your  Majesty.  You  will  find 
some  of  your  most  loyal  subjects  among  these 
men.  Their  forefathers  have  been  faithful  to 
your  house  and  to  the  Church  for  many  gen 
erations." 

"Excellent,"  said  the  King;  "I  shall  receive 
them  immediately  after  the  deputation  from 
Paris.  Consult  with  Baron  Barrat  and  Ka- 
lonay,  please,  about  the  details.  I  wish  either 
Kalonay  or  yourself  to  make  the  presentation. 
I  see  Miss  Carson  and  her  mother  coming. 
After  luncheon,  then,  at,  say,  three  o'clock- 
will  that  be  satisfactory?" 

"As  your  Majesty  pleases,"  the  priest  an 
swered,  and  with  a  bow  he  strode  across  the 
terrace  to  where  Kalonay  stood  watching  them. 


205 


II 


MRS.  CARSON  and  her  daughter  came  from 
the  hotel  to  the  terrace  through  the  hallway 
which  divided  the  King's  apartments.  Baron 
Barrat  preceded  them  and  they  followed  in  sin 
gle  file,  Miss  Carson  walking  first.  It  was  a 
position  her  mother  always  forced  upon  her,  and 
after  people  grew  to  know  them  they  accepted 
it  as  illustrating  Mrs.  Carson's  confidence  in 
her  daughter's  ability  to  care  for  herself,  as  well 
as  her  own  wish  to  remain  in  the  background. 

Patricia  Carson,  as  she  was  named  after  her 
patron  saint,  or  "Patty"  Carson,  as  she  was 
called  more  frequently,  was  an  exceedingly 
pretty  girl.  She  was  tall  and  fair,  with  a  smile 
that  showed  such  confidence  in  every  one  she 
met  that  few  could  find  the  courage  to  unde 
ceive  her  by  being  themselves,  and  it  was  easier, 
in  the  face  of  such  an  appeal  as  her  eyes  made 
to  the  best  in  every  one,  for  each  to  act  a  part 
while  he  was  with  her.  She  was  young,  impres 
sionable,  and  absolutely  inexperienced.  As  a 
little  girl  she  had  lived  on  a  great  ranch,  where 
she  could  gallop  from  sunrise  to  sunset  over  her 
own  prairie  land,  and  later  her  life  had  been 

206 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

spent  in  a  convent  outside  of  Paris.  She  had 
but  two  great  emotions,  her  love  for  her  father 
and  for  the  Church  which  had  nursed  her.  Her 
father's  death  had  sanctified  him  and  given 
him  a  place  in  her  heart  that  her  mother  could 
not  hold,  and  when  she  found  herself  at  twenty- 
one  the  mistress  of  a  great  fortune,  her  one  idea 
as  to  the  disposal  of  it  was  to  do  with  it  what 
would  best  please  him  and  the  Church  which 
had  been  the  ruling  power  in  the  life  of  both  of 
them.  She  was  quite  unconscious  of  her  beauty, 
and  her  mode  of  speaking  was  simple  and  eager. 

She  halted  as  she  came  near  the  King,  and 
resting  her  two  hands  on  the  top  of  her  lace 
parasol,  nodded  pleasantly  to  him  and  to  the 
others.  She  neither  courtesied  nor  offered  him 
her  hand,  but  seemed  to  prefer  this  middle 
course,  leaving  them  to  decide  whether  she 
acted  as  she  did  from  ignorance  or  from  choice. 

As  the  King  stepped  forward  to  greet  her 
mother,  Miss  Carson  passed  him  and  moved 
on  to  where  the  Father  Superior  stood  apart 
from  the  others,  talking  earnestly  with  the 
Prince.  What  he  was  saying  was  of  an  unwel 
come  nature,  for  Kalonay's  face  wore  an  ex 
pression  of  boredom  and  polite  protest  which 
changed  instantly  to  one  of  delight  when  he 
saw  Miss  Carson.  The  girl  hesitated  and  made 
a  deep  obeisance  to  the  priest. 

207 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"I  am  afraid  I  interrupt  you,"  she  said. 

"Not  at  all,"  Kalonay  assured  her,  laughing. 
"It  is  a  most  welcome  interruption.  The  good 
father  has  been  finding  fault  with  me,  as  usual, 
and  I  am  quite  willing  to  change  the  subject." 

The  priest  smiled  kindly  on  the  girl,  and 
while  he  exchanged  some  words  of  welcome 
with  her,  Kalonay  brought  up  one  of  the  huge 
wicker  chairs,  and  she  seated  herself  with  her 
back  to  the  others,  facing  the  two  men,  who 
stood  leaning  against  the  broad  balustrade. 
They  had  been  fellow-conspirators  sufficiently 
long  for  them  to  have  grown  to  know  each  other 
well,  and  the  priest,  so  far  from  regarding  her 
as  an  intruder,  hailed  her  at  once  as  a  probable 
ally,  and  endeavored  to  begin  again  where  he 
had  ceased  speaking. 

"Do  you  not  agree  with  me,  Miss  Carson?" 
he  asked.  "I  am  telling  the  Prince  that  zeal 
is  not  enough,  and  that  high  ideals,  unless  they 
are  accompanied  by  good  conduct,  are  futile. 
I  want  him  to  change,  to  be  more  sober,  more 
strict — 

"Oh,  you  must  not  ask  me,"  Miss  Carson 
said,  hurriedly,  smiling  and  shaking  her  head. 
"We  are  working  for  only  one  thing,  are  we 
not?  Beyond  that  you  know  nothing  of  me, 
and  I  know  nothing  of  you.  I  came  to  hear  of 
your  visit,"  she  continued;  "am  I  to  be  told 

208 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

anything?"  she  asked,  eagerly,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other.  "It  has  been  such  an  anxious 
two  weeks.  We  imagined  all  manner  of  things 
had  happened  to  you.'* 

Kalonay  laughed  happily.  "The  Father  was 
probably  never  safer  in  his  life,"  he  said.  "They 
took  us  to  their  hearts  like  brothers.  They 
might  have  suffocated  us  with  kindness,  but 
we  were  in  no  other  danger." 

"Then  you  are  encouraged,  Father?"  she 
asked,  turning  to  the  priest.  "You  found  them 
loyal?  Your  visit  was  all  you  hoped,  you  can 
depend  upon  them?" 

"We  can  count  upon  them  absolutely,"  the 
monk  assured  her.  "We  shall  start  on  our  re 
turn  voyage  at  once,  in  a  day,  as  soon  as  his 
Majesty  gives  the  word." 

"There  are  so  many  things  I  want  to  know," 
the  girl  said;  "but  I  have  no  right  to  ask,"  she 
added,  looking  up  at  him  doubtfully. 

"You  have  every  right,"  the  monk  answered. 
"You  have  certainly  earned  it.  Without  the 
help  you  gave  us  we  could  not  have  mcved. 
You  have  been  more  than  generous- 
Miss  Carson  interrupted  him  with  an  im 
patient  lifting  of  her  head.  "That  sort  of  gen 
erosity  is  nothing,"  she  said.  "With  you  men  it 
is  different.  You  are  all  risking  something. 
You  are  actually  helping,  while  I  must  sit  still 

209 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

and  wait.  I  hope,  Father,"  she  said,  smiling, 
"it  is  not  wrong  for  me  to  wish  I  were  a 
man." 

"Wrong!"  exclaimed  Kalonay,  in  a  tone  of 
mock  dismay;  "of  course  it's  wrong.  It's 
wicked." 

The  monk  turned  and  looked  coldly  over  his 
shoulder  at  Kalonay,  and  the  Prince  laughed. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "but  we  are 
told  to  be  contented  with  out  lot,"  he  argued, 
impenitently.  'He  only  is  a  slave  who  com 
plains/  and  that  is  true  even  if  a  heretic  did 
say  it." 

The  monk  shook  his  head  and  turned  again  to 
Miss  Carson  with  a  tolerant  smile. 

"He  is  very  young,"  he  said,  as  though  Ka 
lonay  did  not  hear  him,  "and  wild  and  foolish 
—and  yet,"  he  added,  doubtfully,  "I  find  I 
love  the  boy."  He  regarded  the  young  man 
with  a  kind  but  impersonal  scrutiny,  as  though 
he  were  a  picture  or  a  statue.  "Sometimes  I 
imagine  he  is  all  I  might  have  been,"  he  said, 
"had  not  God  given  me  the  strength  to  over 
come  myself.  He  has  never  denied  himself  in 
anything;  he  is  as  wilful  and  capricious  as  a 
girl.  He  makes  a  noble  friend,  Miss  Carson, 
and  a  generous  enemy;  but  he  is  spoiled  irre 
trievably  by  good  fortune  and  good  living  and 
good  health."  The  priest  looked  at  the  young 

210 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

man  with  a  certain  sad  severity.        'Unstable 
as  water,  thou  shalt  not  excel/  "  he  said. 

The  girl,  in  great  embarrassment,  turned  her 
head  away,  glancing  from  the  ocean  to  the  sky; 
but  Kalonay  seated  himself  coolly  on  the  broad 
balustrade  of  the  terrace  with  his  hands  on  his 
hips,  and  his  heels  resting  on  the  marble  tiling, 
and  clicked  the  soles  of  his  boots  together. 

"Oh,  I  have  had  my  bad  days,  too,  Father," 
he  said.  He  turned  his  head  on  one  side,  and 
pressed  his  lips  together,  looking  down. 

"Unstable  as  water — that  is  quite  possible," 
he  said,  with  an  air  of  consideration;  "but 
spoiled  by  good  fortune — oh,  no,  that  is  not  fair. 
Do  you  call  it  good  fortune,  sir,"  he  laughed, 
"to  be  an  exile  at  twenty-eight?  Is  it  good  for 
tune  to  be  too  poor  to  pay  your  debts,  and  too 
lazy  to  work;  to  be  the  last  of  a  great  name, 
and  to  have  no  chance  to  add  to  the  glory  of  it, 
and  no  means  to  keep  its  dignity  fresh  and  se 
cure?  Do  you  fancy  I  like  to  see  myself  drifting 
farther  and  farther  away  from  the  old  standards 
and  the  old  traditions;  to  have  English  brew 
ers  and  German  Jew  bankers  taking  the  place 
I  should  have,  buying  titles  with  their  earn 
ings  and  snubbing  me  because  I  can  only  hunt 
when  some  one  gives  me  a  mount,  and  because 
I  choose  to  take  a  purse  instead  of  a  cup  when 
we  shoot  -at  Monte  Carlo?" 

211 


"What  child's  talk  is  this?"  interrupted  the 
priest  angrily.  "A  thousand  horses  cannot 
make  a  man  noble,  nor  was  poverty  ever 
ignoble.  You  talk  like  a  weak  boy.  Every 
word  you  say  is  your  own  condemnation.  Why 
should  you  complain?  Your  bed  is  of  your 
own  making.  The  other  prodigal  was  forced 
to  herd  with  the  swine — you  have  chosen  to 
herd  with  them." 

The  girl  straightened  herself  and  half  rose 
from  her  chair. 

"You  are  boring  Miss  Carson  with  my  delin 
quencies,"  said  the  Prince,  sternly.  His  face 
was  flushed,  and  he  did  not  look  either  at  the 
girl  or  at  the  priest. 

"But  the  prodigal's  father?"  said  Miss  Car 
son,  smiling  at  the  older  man.  "Did  he  stand 
over  him  and  upbraid  him?  You  remember, 
he  went  to  meet  him  when  he  was  yet  a  great 
way  off.  That  was  it,  was  it  not,  Father?" 

"Of  course  he  did,"  cried  Kalonay,  laugh 
ing  like  a  boy,  and  slipping  lightly  to  the  ter 
race.  "He  met  him  half-way  and  gave  him  the 
best  he  had."  He  stepped  to  Miss  Carson's 
side  and  the  two  young  people  moved  away 
smiling,  and  the  priest,  seeing  that  they  were 
about  to  escape  him,  cried  eagerly,  "But  that 
prodigal  had  repented.  This  one 

"Let's  run,"  cried  the  Prince.  "He  will  get 
212 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

the  best  of  us  if  we  stay.  He  always  gets  the 
best  of  me.  He  has  been  abusing  me  that  way 
for  two  weeks  now,  and  he  is  always  sorry 
afterward.  Let  us  leave  him  alone  to  his  sor 
row  and  remorse.** 

Kalonay  walked  across  the  terrace  with  Miss 
Carson,  bending  above  her  with  what  would 
have  seemed  to  an  outsider  almost  a  proprie 
tary  right.  She  did  not  appear  to  notice  it, 
but  looked  at  him  frankly  and  listened  to  what 
he  had  to  say  with  interest.  He  was  speaking 
rapidly,  and  as  he  spoke  he  glanced  shyly  at 
her  as  though  seeking  her  approbation,  and 
not  boldly,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do  when 
he  talked  with  either  men  or  women.  To  look 
at  her  with  admiration  was  such  a  cheap  form 
of  appreciation,  and  one  so  distasteful  to  her, 
that,  had  he  known  it,  Kalonay's  averted  eyes 
were  more  of  a  compliment  than  any  words  he 
could  have  spoken.  His  companions  who  had 
seen  him  with  other  women  knew  that  his  man 
ner  to  her  was  not  his  usual  manner,  and  that 
he  gave  her  something  he  did  not  give  to  the 
others;  that  he  was  more  discreet  and  less 
ready,  and  less  at  ease. 

The  Prince  Kalonay  had  first  met  Miss  Car 
son  and  her  mother  by  chance  in  Paris,  at  the 
rooms  of  Father  Paul,  where  they  had  each  gone 
on  the  same  errand,  and  since  that  meeting  his 

213 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

whole  manner  toward  the  two  worlds  in  which 
he  lived  had  altered  so  strangely  that  mere  ac 
quaintances  noticed  the  change. 

Before  he  had  met  her,  the  little  the  priest 
had  said  concerning  her  and  her  zeal  for  their 
common  desire  had  piqued  his  curiosity,  and  his 
imagination  had  been  aroused  by  the  picture  of 
a  romantic  young  woman  giving  her  fortune  to 
save  the  souls  of  the  people  of  Messina;  his  peo 
ple,  whom  he  regarded  and  who  regarded  him 
less  as  a  feudal  lord  than  as  a  father  and  a  com 
rade.  He  had  pictured  her  as  a  nervous,  angu 
lar  woman  with  a  pale,  ascetic  face,  and  with 
the  restless  eyes  of  an  enthusiast,  dressed  in 
black  and  badly  dressed,  and  with  a  severe  and 
narrow  intelligence.  But  he  had  prepared  him 
self  to  forgive  her  personality,  for  the  sake  of 
the  high  and  generous  impulse  that  inspired 
her.  And  when  he  was  presented  to  her  as  she 
really  was,  and  found  her  young,  lovable,  and 
nobly  fair,  the  shock  of  wonder  and  delight  had 
held  him  silent  during  the  whole  course  of  her 
interview  with  the  priest,  and  when  she  had 
left  them  his  brain  was  in  a  tumult  and  was 
filled  with  memories  of  her  words  and  gestures, 
and  of  the  sweet  fearlessness  of  her  manner. 
Beautiful  women  he  had  known  before  as  beau 
tiful  women,  but  the  saving  grace  in  his  nature 
had  never  before  been  so  deeply  roused  by  what 

214 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

was  fine  as  well  as  beautiful.  It  seemed  as 
though  it  were  too  complete  and  perfect.  For 
he  assured  himself  that  she  possessed  every 
thing — those  qualities  which  he  had  never  val 
ued  before  because  he  believed  them  to  be  un 
attainable,  and  those  others  which  he  had  made 
his  idols.  She  was  with  him,  mind  and  heart 
and  soul,  in  the  one  desire  of  his  life  that  he 
took  seriously;  she  was  of  his  religion,  she  was 
more  noble  than  his  noble  sisters,  and  she  was 
more  beautiful  than  the  day.  In  the  first  glow 
of  the  meeting  it  seemed  to  him  as  though  fate 
had  called  them  to  do  this  work  together, — she 
from  the  far  shore  of  the  Pacific,  and  he  from 
his  rocky  island  in  the  Middle  Sea.  And  he 
saw  with  cruel  distinctness,  that  if  there  were 
one  thing  wanting,  it  was  himself.  He  wor 
shipped  her  before  he  had  bowed  his  first  good- 
by  to  her,  and  that  night  he  walked  for  miles  up 
and  down  the  long  lengths  of  the  Avenue  of  the 
Champs-EIysees,  facing  the  great  change  that 
she  had  brought  into  his  life,  but  knowing  him 
self  to  be  utterly  unfit  for  her  coming.  He  felt 
like  an  unworthy  steward  caught  at  his  master's 
return  unprepared,  with  ungirt  loins  and  un- 
lighted  lamp.  Nothing  he  had  done  since  he 
was  a  child  gave  him  the  right  to  consider  him 
self  her  equal.  He  was  not  blinded  by  the  ap 
proaches  which  other  daughters  and  the  moth- 

215 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

ers  of  daughters  had  made  him.  He  knew  that 
what  was  enough  to  excuse  many  things  in 
their  eyes  might  find  no  apology  in  hers.  He 
looked  back  with  the  awakening  of  a  child  at 
the  irrevocable  acts  in  his  life  that  could  not 
be  altered  nor  dug  up  nor  hidden  away.  They 
marked  the  road  he  had  trodden  like  heavy 
milestones,  telling  his  story  to  every  passer-by. 
She  could  read  them,  as  every  one  else  could 
read  them.  He  had  wasted  his  substance,  he 
had  bartered  his  birthright  for  a  moment's 
pleasure;  there  was  no  one  so  low  and  despicable 
who  could  not  call  him  comrade,  to  whom  he 
had  not  given  himself  without  reserve.  There 
was  nothing  left,  and  now  the  one  thing  he 
had  ever  wanted  had  come,  and  had  found  him 
like  a  bankrupt,  his  credit  wasted  and  his  cof 
fers  empty.  He  had  placed  himself  at  the  beck 
and  call  of  every  idle  man  and  woman  in  Paris, 
and  he  was  as  common  as  the  great  clock-face 
that  hangs  above  the  boulevards. 

Miss  Carson's  feelings  toward  Kalonay  were 
not  of  her  own  choosing,  and  had  passed  through 
several  stages.  When  they  had  first  met  she 
had  thought  it  most  sad  that  so  careless  and 
unprincipled  a  person  should  chance  to  hold  so 
important  a  part  in  the  task  she  had  set  her 
self  to  do.  She  knew  his  class  only  by  hearsay, 
but  she  placed  him  in  it,  and,  accordingly,  at 

216 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

once  dismissed  him  as  a  person  from  her  mind. 
Kalonay  had  never  shown  her  that  he  loved  her, 
except  by  those  signs  which  any  woman  can 
read  and  which  no  man  can  conceal;  but  he 
did  not  make  love  to  her,  and  it  was  that  which 
first  prepossessed  her  in  his  favor.  One  or  two 
other  men  who  knew  of  her  fortune,  and  to 
whom  she  had  given  as  little  encouragement  as 
she  had  to  Kalonay,  had  been  less  considerate. 
But  his  attitude  toward  her  was  always  that  of 
a  fellow-worker  in  the  common  cause.  He 
treated  her  with  a  gratitude  for  the  help  she 
meant  to  give  his  people  which  much  embar 
rassed  her.  His  seriousness  pleased  her  with 
him,  seeing,  as  she  did,  that  it  was  not  his  na 
ture  to  be  serious,  and  his  enthusiasm  and  love 
for  his  half-civilized  countrymen  increased  her 
interest  in  them,  and  her  liking  for  him.  She 
could  not  help  but  admire  the  way  in  which  he 
accepted,  without  forcing  her  to  make  it  any 
plainer,  the  fact  that  he  held  no  place  in  her 
thoughts.  And  then  she  found  that  he  began 
to  hold  more  of  a  place  in  her  thoughts  than  she 
had  supposed  any  man  could  hold  of  whom  she 
knew  so  little,  and  of  whom  the  little  she  knew 
was  so  ill.  She  missed  him  when  she  went  to 
the  priest's  and  found  that  he  had  not  sent  for 
Kalonay  to  bear  his  part  in  their  councils;  and 
at  times  she  felt  an  unworthy  wish  to  hear 

217 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

Kalonay  speak  the  very  words  she  had  admired 
him  for  keeping  from  her.  And  at  last  she 
learned  the  truth  that  she  did  love  him,  and  it 
frightened  her,  and  made  her  miserable  and 
happy.  They  had  not  seen  each  other  since  he 
had  left  Paris  for  Messina,  and  though  they 
spoke  now  only  of  his  mission  to  the  island, 
there  was  back  of  what  they  said  the  joy  for 
each  of  them  of  being  together  again  and  of  find 
ing  that  it  meant  so  much.  What  it  might 
mean  to  the  other,  neither  knew. 

For  some  little  time  the  King  followed  the 
two  young  people  with  his  eyes,  and  then  joined 
them,  making  signs  to  Kalonay  that  he  wished 
him  to  leave  them  together;  but  Kalonay  re 
mained  blind  to  his  signals,  and  Barrat,  seeing 
that  it  was  not  a  tete-a-tete,  joined  them  also. 
When  he  did  so  Kalonay  asked  the  King  for  a 
word,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  his  arm  walked 
with  him  down  the  terrace,  pointing  ostensibly 
to  where  the  yacht  lay  in  the  harbor.  Louis 
answered  his  pantomime  with  an  appropriate 
gesture,  and  then  asked,  sharply,  "Well,  what 
is  it?  Why  did  you  bring  me  here?  And  what 
do  you  mean  by  staying  on  when  you  see  you 
are  not  wanted?" 

They  were  some  distance  from  the  others. 
Kalonay  smiled  and  made  a  slight  bow.  ''Your 
Majesty,"  he  began,  with  polite  emphasis.  The 
King  looked  at  him  curiously. 

218 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"In  the  old  days  under  similar  circum 
stances,"  the  Prince  continued,  with  the  air 
of  a  courtier  rather  than  that  of  an  equal,  "had 
I  thought  of  forming  an  alliance  by  marriage, 
I  should  have  come  to  your  Majesty  first  and 
asked  your  gracious  approval.  But  those  days 
are  past,  and  we  are  living  at  the  end  of  the 
century;  and  we  do  such  things  differently." 
He  straightened  himself  and  returned  the  King's 
look  of  amused  interest  with  one  as  cynical  as 
his  own.  "What  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  Louis," 
he  said,  quietly,  "is  that  I  mean  to  ask  Miss 
Carson  to  become  the  Princess  Kalonay." 

The  King  raised  his  head  quickly  and  stared 
at  the  younger  man  with  a  look  of  distaste  and 
surprise.  He  gave  an  incredulous  laugh. 

"Indeed?"  he  said  at  last.  "There  was  al 
ways  something  about  rich  women  you  could 
never  resist." 

The  Prince  made  his  acknowledgment  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  and  smiled  indiffer 
ently. 

"I  didn't  expect  you  to  understand,"  he 
said.  "It  does  seem  odd;  it's  quite  as  difficult 
for  me  to  understand  as  for  you.  I  have  been 
through  it  a  great  many  times,  and  I  thought 
I  knew  all  there  was  of  it.  But  now  it  seems 
different.  No,  it  does  not  seem  different,"  he 
corrected  himself;  "it  is  different,  and  I  love  the 
lady  and  I  mean  to  ask  her  to  do  me  the  honor 

219 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

to  marry  me.  I  didn't  expect  you  to  under 
stand,  I  don't  care  if  you  do.  I  only  wanted 
to  warn  you." 

"Warn  me?"  interrupted  the  King,  with  an 
unpleasant  smile.  "Indeed!  against  what? 
Your  tone  is  a  trifle  peremptory — but  you  are 
interesting,  most  interesting !  Kalonay  in  a 
new  role,  Kalonay  in  love  !  Most  interesting ! 
Warn  me  against  what?"  he  repeated  sharply. 

:<Your  Majesty  has  a  certain  manner,"  the 
Prince  began,  with  a  pretense  of  hesitation,  "a 
charm  of  manner,  I  might  say,  which  is  prover 
bial.  It  is,  we  know,  attractive  to  women. 
Every  woman  acknowledges  it.  But  your  Ma 
jesty  is  sometimes  too  gracious.  He  permits 
himself  to  condescend  to  many  women,  to  any 
woman,  to  women  of  all  classes 

"That  will  do,"  said  the  King;  "what  do 
you  mean?" 

"What  I  mean  is  this,"  said  Kalonay,  lower 
ing  his  voice  and  looking  into  the  King's  half- 
closed  eyes.  "You  can  have  all  of  Miss  Car 
son's  money  you  want — all  you  can  get.  I 
don't  want  it.  If  I  am  to  marry  her  at  all,  I 
am  not  marrying  her  for  her  money.  You  can't 
believe  that.  It  isn't  essential  that  you  should. 
But  I  want  you  to  leave  the  woman  I  hope  to 
make  my  wife  alone.  I  will  allow  no  pretty 
speeches,  nor  royal  attentions.  She  can  give 

220 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

her  money  where  she  pleases,  now  and  always; 
but  I'll  not  have  her  eyes  opened  to — as  you 
can  open  them.  I  will  not  have  her  annoyed. 
And  if  she  is— 

"Ah,  and  if  she  is?"  challenged  the  King. 
His  eyes  were  wide  apart  now  and  his  lips  were 
parted  and  drawn  back  from  his  teeth,  like  a 
snarling  cat— 

"I  shall  hold  whoever  annoys  her  responsi 
ble,"  Kalonay  concluded,  impersonally. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  during  which 
the  two  men  stood  regarding  each  other  warily. 

Then  the  King  stiffened  his  shoulders  and 
placed  his  hands  slowly  behind  his  back.  "That 
sounds,  my  dear  Kalonay,"  he  said,  "almost 
like  a  threat." 

The  younger  man  laughed  insolently.  "I 
meant  it,  too,  your  Majesty,"  he  answered, 
bowing  mockingly  and  backing  away. 

As  the  King's  guests  seated  themselves  at 
his  breakfast-table  Louis  smiled  upon  them 
with  a  gracious  glance  of  welcome  and  approval. 
His  manner  was  charmingly  condescending,  and 
in  his  appearance  there  was  nothing  more  seri 
ous  than  an  anxiety  for  their  better  entertain 
ment  and  a  certain  animal  satisfaction  in  the 
food  upon  his  plate. 

In  reality  his  eyes  were  distributing  the  peo 
ple  at  the  table  before  him  into  elements  favor- 

221 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

able  or  unfavorable  to  his  plans,  and  in  his  mind 
he  shuffled  them  and  their  values  for  him  or 
against  him  as  a  gambler  arranges  and  rear 
ranges  the  cards  in  his  hand.  He  saw  himself 
plainly  as  his  own  highest  card,  and  Barrat  and 
Erhaupt  as  willing  but  mediocre  accomplices. 
In  Father  Paul  and  Kalonay  he  recognized  his 
most  powerful  allies  or  most  dangerous  foes. 
Miss  Carson  meant  nothing  to  him  but  a  source 
from  which  he  could  draw  the  sinews  of  war. 
What  would  become  of  her  after  the  farce  was 
ended,  he  did  not  consider.  He  was  not  capable 
of  comprehending  either  her  or  her  motives, 
and  had  he  concerned  himself  about  her  at  all, 
he  would  have  probably  thought  that  she  was 
more  of  a  fool  than  the  saint  she  pretended  to 
be,  and  that  she  had  come  to  their  assistance 
more  because  she  wished  to  be  near  a  Prince 
and  a  King  than  because  she  cared  for  the  souls 
of  sixty  thousand  peasants.  That  she  would 
surely  lose  her  money,  and  could  hardly  hope 
to  escape  from  them  without  losing  her  good 
name,  did  not  concern  him.  It  was  not  his  duty 
to  look  after  the  reputation  of  any  American 
heiress  who  thought  she  could  afford  to  be  un 
conventional.  She  had  a  mother  to  do  that  for 
her,  and  she  was  pretty  enough,  he  concluded, 
to  excuse  many  things, — so  pretty  that  he 
wondered  if  he  might  brave  the  Countess  Zara 

222 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

and  offer  Miss  Carson  the  attentions  to  which 
Kalonay  had  made  such  arrogant  objections. 
The  King  smiled  at  the  thought,  and  let  his 
eyes  fall  for  a  moment  on  the  tall  figure  of  the 
girl  with  its  crown  of  heavy  golden  hair,  and  on 
her  clever,  earnest  eyes.  She  was  certainly 
worth  waiting  for,  and  in  the  meanwhile  she 
was  virtually  unprotected  and  surrounded  by 
his  own  people.  According  to  his  translation 
of  her  acts,  she  had  already  offered  him  every 
encouragement,  and  had  placed  herself  in  a  posi 
tion  which  to  his  understanding  of  the  world 
could  have  but  one  interpretation.  What 
Kalonay's  sudden  infatuation  might  mean  he 
could  not  foresee;  whether  it  promised  good 
or  threatened  evil,  he  could  only  guess,  but  he 
decided  that  the  young  man's  unwonted  show 
of  independence  of  the  morning  must  be  pun 
ished.  His  claim  to  exclusive  proprietorship 
in  the  young  girl  struck  the  King  as  amusing, 
but  impertinent.  It  would  be  easy  sailing  in 
spite  of  all,  he  decided;  for  somewhere  up  above 
them  in  the  hotel  sat  the  unbidden  guest,  the 
woman  against  whom  Father  Paul  had  raised 
the  ban  of  expulsion,  but  who  had,  neverthe 
less,  tricked  both  him  and  the  faithful  Jackal. 

The  breakfast  was  drawing  to  an  end  and 
the  faithful  Niccolas  was  the  only  servant  re 
maining  in  the  room.  The  talk  had  grown  in- 

223 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

timate  and  touched  openly  upon  the  successful 
visit  of  the  two  ambassadors  to  the  island,  and 
of  Barrat's  mission  to  Paris.  Of  Madame  Zara's 
visit  to  the  northern  half  of  the  island,  which 
was  supposed  to  have  been  less  successful,  no 
mention  was  made. 

Louis  felt  as  he  listened  to  them  like  a  man 
at  a  play,  who  knows  that  at  a  word  from  him 
the  complications  would  cease,  and  that  were 
he  to  rise  in  the  stalls  and  explain  them  away, 
and  point  out  the  real  hero  and  denounce  the 
villain,  the  curtain  would  have  to  ring  down  on 
the  instant.  He  gave  a  little  purr  of  satisfac 
tion,  and  again  marshalled  his  chances  before 
him  and  smiled  to  find  them  good.  He  was 
grandly  at  peace  with  himself  and  with  the 
world.  Whatever  happened,  he  was  already 
richer  by  some  300,000  francs,  and  in  a  day,  if 
he  could  keep  the  American  girl  to  her  promise, 
would  be  as  rich  again.  When  the  farce  of 
landing  his  expedition  had  been  played  he 
would  be  free, — free  to  return  to  his  clubs  and 
to  his  boulevards  and  boudoirs,  with  money 
enough  to  silence  the  most  insolent  among  his 
creditors,  and  with  renewed  credit;  with  even  a 
certain  glamour  about  him  of  one  who  had 
dared  to  do,  even  though  he  had  failed  in  the 
doing,  who  had  shaken  off  the  slothfulness  of 
ease  and  had  chosen  to  risk  his  life  for  his 

224 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

throne  with  a  smoking  rifle  in  his  hand,  until  a 
traitor  had  turned  fortune  against  him. 

The  King  was  amused  to  find  that  this  pros 
pect  pleased  him  vastly.  He  was  surprised  to 
discover  that,  careless  as  he  thought  himself 
to  be  to  public  opinion,  he  was  still  capable 
of  caring  for  its  approbation;  but  he  consoled 
himself  for  this  weakness  by  arguing  that  it 
was  only  because  the  approbation  would  be 
his  by  a  trick  that  it  pleased  him  to  think  of. 
Perhaps  some  of  his  royal  cousins,  in  the  light 
of  his  bold  intent,  might  take  him  under  their 
protection  instead  of  neglecting  him  shame 
fully,  as  they  had  done  in  the  past.  His  armed 
expedition  might  open  certain  doors  to  him; 
his  name — and  he  smiled  grimly  as  he  imagined 
it — would  ring  throughout  Europe  as  the  Sol 
dier  King,  as  the  modern  disciple  of  the  divine 
right  of  kings.  He  saw,  in  his  mind's  eye,  even 
the  possibility  of  a  royal  alliance  and  a  pension 
from  one  of  the  great  Powers.  No  matter  where 
he  looked  he  could  see  nothing  but  gain  to  him 
self,  more  power  for  pleasure,  more  chances  of 
greater  fortune  in  the  future,  and  while  his  lips 
assented  to  what  the  others  said,  and  his  eyes 
thanked  them  for  some  expression  of  loyalty 
or  confidence,  he  saw  himself  in  dreams  as 
bright  as  an  absinth  drinker's,  back  in  his  be 
loved  Paris:  in  the  Champs-EIysees  behind  fine 

225 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

horses,  lolling  from  a  silk  box  at  the  opera,  deal 
ing  baccarat  at  the  Jockey  Club,  or  playing  host 
to  some  beautiful  woman  of  the  hour,  in  the 
new  home  he  would  establish  for  her  in  the  dis 
creet  and  leafy  borders  of  the  Bois. 

He  had  forgotten  his  guests  and  the  moment. 
He  had  forgotten  that  there  were  difficulties 
yet  to  overcome,  and  with  a  short,  indrawn 
sigh  of  pleasure,  he  threw  back  his  head  and 
smiled  arrogantly  upon  the  sunny  terrace  and 
the  green  palms  and  the  brilliant  blue  sea,  as 
though  he  challenged  the  whole  beautiful  world 
before  him  to  do  aught  but  minister  to  his  suc 
cess  and  contribute  to  his  pleasures. 

And  at  once,  as  though  in  answer  to  his  chal 
lenge,  a  tall,  slim  young  man  sprang  lightly  up 
the  steps  of  the  terrace,  passed  the  bewildered 
guards  with  a  cheery  nod,  and,  striding  before 
the  open  windows,  knocked  with  his  fist  upon 
the  portals  of  the  door,  as  sharply  and  as  con 
fidently  as  though  the  King's  shield  had  hung 
there,  and  he  had  struck  it  with  a  lance. 

The  King's  dream  shattered  and  faded  away 
at  the  sound,  and  he  moved  uneasily  in  his 
chair.  He  had  the  gambler's  superstitious  re 
gard  for  trifles,  and  this  invasion  of  his  privacy 
by  a  confident  stranger  filled  him  with  sudden 
disquiet. 

He  saw  Kalonay  staring  at  the  open  windows 
226 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

with   an   expression   of  astonishment    and  dis 
may. 

"Who  is  it?'*  the  King  asked,  peevishly. 
"What  are  you  staring  at?  How  did  he  get  in?" 

Kalonay  turned  on  Barrat,  sitting  at  his 
right.  "Did  you  see  him?"  he  asked.  Barrat 
nodded  gloomily. 

'The  devil !"  exclaimed  the  Prince,  as  though 
Barrat  had  confirmed  his  guess.  "I  beg  your 
pardon,"  he  said,  nodding  his  head  toward  the 
women.  He  pushed  back  his  chair  and  stood 
irresolutely  with  his  napkin  in  his  hand.  "Tell 
him  we  are  not  in,  Niccolas,"  he  commanded. 

"He  saw  us  as  he  passed  the  window,"  the 
Baron  objected. 

"Say  we  are  at  breakfast,  then.  I  will  see  him 
myself  in  a  moment.  What  shall  I  tell  him?" 
he  asked,  turning  to  Barrat.  "Do  you  think 
he  knows?  He  must  know,  they  have  told  him 
in  Paris." 

"You  are  keeping  us  waiting,"  said  the  King. 
"What  is  it?  Who  is  this  man?" 

"An  American  named  Gordon.  He  is  a  cor 
respondent,"  Kalonay  answered,  without  turn 
ing  his  head.  His  eyes  were  still  fixed  on  the 
terrace  as  though  he  had  seen  a  ghost. 

The  King  slapped  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair.  "You  promised  me,"  he  said,  "that  we 
should  be  free  from  that  sort  of  thing.  That  is 

227 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

why  I  agreed  to  come  here  instead  of  going 
to  Algiers.  Go  out,  Barrat,  and  send  him 
away." 

Barrat  pressed  his  lips  together  and  shook 
his  head. 

"You  can't  send  him  away  like  that,"  he 
said.  "He  is  a  very  important  young  man." 

"Find  out  how  much  he  will  take,  then,"  ex 
claimed  the  King,  angrily,  "and  give  it  to  him. 
I  can  better  afford  to  pay  blackmail  to  any 
amount  than  have  my  plans  spoiled  now  by 
the  newspapers.  Give  him  what  he  wants — a 
fur  coat — they  always  wear  fur  coats — or  five 
thousand  francs,  or  something — anything — but 
get  rid  of  him." 

Barrat  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "He  is  not  a  boule 
vard  journalist,"  he  replied,  sulkily. 

"Your  Majesty  is  thinking  of  the  Hungarian 
Jews    at   Vienna,"    explained    Kalonay,    "who 
live  on  chantage  and  the  Monte  Carlo  propa 
ganda  fund.    This  man  is  not  in  their  class;  he 
is  not  to  be  bought     I  said  he  was  an  Ameri 


can." 


"An  American!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Carson 
and  her  daughter,  exchanging  rapid  glances. 
"Is  it  Archie  Gordon  you  mean?"  the  girl 
asked.  "I  thought  he  was  in  China." 

"That  is  the  man — Archie  Gordon.  He 
228 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

writes  books  and  explores  places,"  Kalonay 
answered. 

"  I  know  him.  He  wrote  a  book  on  the  slave 
trade  in  the  Congo,"  contributed  Colonel  Er- 
haupt.  "  I  met  him  at  Zanzibar.  What  does  he 
want  with  us?" 

"He  was  in  Yokohama  when  the  Japanese- 
Chinese  war  broke  out,"  said  Kalonay,  turning 
to  the  King,  "and  he  cabled  a  London  paper 
he  would  follow  the  war  for  it  if  they  paid  him 
a  hundred  a  week.  He  meant  American  dollars, 
but  they  thought  he  meant  pounds,  so  they 
cabled  back  that  they'd  pay  one-half  that  sum. 
He  answered,  'One  hundred  or  nothing,'  and 
they  finally  assented  to  that,  and  he  started; 
and  when  the  first  week's  remittance  arrived, 
and  he  received  five  hundred  dollars  instead  of 
tfie  one  hundred  he  expected,  he  sent  back  the 
difference." 

"What  a  remarkable  young  man !"  exclaimed 
the  King.  "He  is  much  too  good  for  daily 
wear.  We  don't  want  any  one  like  that  around 
here,  do  we?" 

"I  know  Mr.  Gordon  very  well,"  said  Miss 
Carson.  "He  lived  in  San  Francisco  before  he 
came  East.  He  was  always  at  our  house,  and 
was  a  great  friend  of  the  family;  wasn't  he, 
mother?  We  haven't  seen  him  for  two  years 
now,  but  I  know  he  wouldn't  spoil  our  plans  for 

229 


the  sake  of  his  paper,  if  he  knew  we  were  in 
earnest,  if  he  understood  that  everything  de 
pended  upon  its  being  kept  a  secret." 

"We  are  not  certain  that  he  knows  any 
thing,"  the  King  urged.  "He  may  not  have 
come  here  to  see  us.  I  think  Father  Paul 
should  talk  with  him  first." 

"I  was  going  to  suggest,"  said  Miss  Carson, 
with  some  hesitation,  "that  if  I  spoke  to  him  I 
might  be  able  to  put  it  to  him  in  such  a  way 
that  he  would  see  how  necessary  it ' 

"Oh,  excellent!"  exclaimed  the  King,  ea 
gerly,  and  rising  to  his  feet;  "if  you  only  would 
be  so  kind,  Miss  Carson." 

Kalonay,  misunderstanding  the  situation 
altogether,  fastened  his  eyes  upon  the  table 
and  did  not  speak. 

"He  has  not  come  to  see  you,  Patricia,"  said 
Mrs.  Carson,  quietly. 

"He  does  not  know  that  I  am  here,"  Miss 
Carson  answered;  "but  I'm  sure  if  he  did  he 
would  be  very  glad  to  see  us  again.  And  if  we 
do  see  him  we  can  make  him  promise  not  to  do 
anything  that  might  interfere  with  our  plans. 
Won't  you  let  me  speak  to  him,  mother?" 

Mrs.  Carson  turned  uncertainly  to  the  priest 
for  direction,  and  his  glance  apparently  reas 
sured  her,  for  she  rose,  though  still  with  a 
troubled  countenance,  and  the  two  women  left 

230 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

the  room  together,  the  men  standing  regarding 
each  other  anxiously  across  the  table.  When 
they  had  gone  the  King  lit  a  cigarette  and, 
turning  his  back  on  his  companions,  puffed  at 
it  nervously  in  silence.  Kalonay  sat  moodily 
studying  the  pattern  on  the  plate  before  him, 
and  the  others  whispered  together  at  the  far 
ther  end  of  the  table. 

When  Miss  Carson  and  her  mother  stepped 
out  upon  the  terrace,  the  American  was  standing 
with  his  back  toward  them  and  was  speaking 
to  the  guards  who  sat  cross-legged  at  the  top 
of  the  steps.  They  showed  no  sign  of  surprise 
at  the  fact  of  his  addressing  them  in  their  own 
tongue  further  than  that  they  answered  him 
with  a  show  of  respect  which  they  had  not  ex 
hibited  toward  those  they  protected.  The 
American  turned  as  he  heard  the  footsteps  be 
hind  him,  and,  after  a  startled  look  of  astonish 
ment,  hurried  toward  the  two  women,  exclaim 
ing,  with  every  expression  of  pleasure. 

"I  had  no  idea  you  were  stopping  here,"  he 
said,  after  the  first  greetings  were  over.  "I 
thought  you  were  somewhere  on  the  Continent. 
I  am  so  glad  I  caught  you.  It  seems  centuries 
since  I  saw  you  last.  You're  looking  very  well, 
Mrs.  Carson — and  as  for  Patty — I  am  almost 
afraid  of  her — I've  been  hearing  all  sorts  of 
things  about  you  lately,  Patty,"  he  went  on, 

231 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

turning  a  smiling  countenance  toward  the  girl. 
"About  your  engagements  to  princes  and  dukes 
—all  sorts  of  disturbing  rumors.  What  a  ter 
rible  swell  you've  grown  to  be!  I  hardly  recog 
nize  you  at  all,  Mrs.  Carson.  It  isn't  possible 
this  is  the  same  young  girl  I  used  to  take  buggy 
riding  on  Sunday  evenings?" 

"  Indeed,  it  is  not.  I  wish  it  were,"  said  Mrs. 
Carson,  plaintively,  sinking  into  a  chair.  "I'm 
glad  to  see  you're  not  changed,  Archie,"  she 
added,  with  a  sigh. 

"Why,  he's  very  much  changed,  mother," 
the  girl  said.  "He's  taller,  and,  in  comparison 
with  what  he  was,  he's  almost  wasted  away, 
and  so  sunburnt  I  hardly  knew  him.  Except 
round  the  forehead,"  she  added,  mockingly, 
"and  I  suppose  the  sun  couldn't  burn  there  be 
cause  of  the  laurel-wreaths.  I  hear  they  bring 
them  to  you  fresh  every  morning." 

c<  They're  better  than  coronets,  at  any  rate," 
Gordon  answered,  with  a  nod.  "  They're  not 
so  common.  And  if  I'm  wasted  away,  can  you 
wonder?  How  long  has  it  been  since  I  saw  you, 
Patty?" 

"No,  I'm  wrong,  he's  not  changed,"  Miss 
Carson  said  dryly,  as  she  seated  herself  beside 
her  mother. 

"How  do  you  two  come  to  be  stopping 
here?"  the  young  man  asked.  "I  thought  this 
hotel  had  been  turned  over  to  King  Louis?" 

232 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"It  has,"  Mrs.  Carson  answered.  "We  are 
staying  at  the  Continental,  on  the  hill  there. 
We  are  only  here  for  breakfast.  He  asked  us  to 
breakfast." 

"He?"  repeated  Gordon,  with  an  incredu 
lous  smile.  "Who?  Not  the  King — not  that 
blackguard?" 

Miss  Carson  raised  her  head,  and  stared  at 
him  in  silence,  and  her  mother  gave  a  little 
gasp,  apparently  of  relief  and  satisfaction. 

"Yes,"  Miss  Carson  answered  at  last,  coldly. 
"We  are  breakfasting  with  him.  What  do  you 
know  against  him?" 

Gordon  stared  at  her  with  such  genuine  as 
tonishment  that  the  girl  lowered  her  eyes,  and 
bending  forward  in  her  chair,  twirled  her  para 
sol  nervously  between  her  fingers. 

"What  do  I  know  against  him?  Why, 
Patty!"  he  exclaimed.  "How  did  you  meet 
him,  in  Heaven's  name?"  he  asked,  roughly. 
"Have  you  been  seen  with  him?  Have  you 
known  him  long?  Who  had  the  impudence  to 
present  him?" 

Mrs.  Carson  looked  up,  now  thoroughly 
alarmed.  Her  lower  lip  was  trembling,  and  she 
twisted  her  gloved  hands  together  in  her  lap. 

"What  do  you  know  against  him?"  Miss 
Carson  repeated,  meeting  Gordon's  look  with 
one  as  full  of  surprise  as  his  own. 

The  young  man  regarded  her  steadily  for  a 

233 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

few  moments,  and  then,  with  a  change  of  man 
ner,  as  though  he  now  saw  the  situation  was 
much  more  serious  than  he  had  at  first  supposed, 
drew  up  a  chair  in  front  of  the  two  women  and 
seated  himself  deliberately. 

"Has  he  borrowed  any  money  from  you  yet?" 
he  asked.  Miss  Carson's  face  flushed  crimson 
and  she  straightened  her  shoulders  and  turned 
her  eyes  away  from  Gordon  with  every  sign  of 
indignation  and  disapproval.  The  young  man 
gave  an  exclamation  of  relief. 

"No?  That's  good.  You  cannot  have  known 
him  so  very  long.  I  am  greatly  relieved." 

"Louis  of  Messina,"  he  began  more  gently, 
"is  the  most  unscrupulous  rascal  in  Europe. 
Since  they  turned  him  out  of  his  kingdom  he 
has  lived  by  selling  his  title  to  men  who  are 
promoting  new  brands  of  champagne  or  float 
ing  queer  mining  shares.  The  greater  part  of 
his  income  is  dependent  on  the  generosity  of  the 
old  nobility  of  Messina,  and  when  they  don't 
pay  him  readily  enough,  he  levies  blackmail  on 
them.  He  owes  money  to  every  tailor  and 
horse-dealer  and  hotel-keeper  in  Europe,  and 
no  one  who  can  tell  one  card  from  another  will 
play  with  him.  That  is  his  reputation.  And  to 
help  him  live  up  to  it  he  has  surrounded  himself 
with  a  parcel  of  adventurers  as  rascally  as  him 
self:  a  Colonel  Erhaupt  who  was  dropped  from 

234 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

a  German  regiment,  and  who  is  a  Colonel  only 
by  the  favor  of  the  Queen  of  Madagascar;  a 
retired  croupier  named  Barrat;  and  a  fallen 
an  gel  called  Kalonay,  a  fellow  of  the  very  best 
blood  in  Europe  and  with  the  very  worst  morals. 
They  call  him  the  King's  Jackal,  and  he  is  one 
of  the  most  delightful  blackguards  I  ever  met. 
So  is  the  King  for  that  matter,  a  most  enter 
taining  individual  if  you  keep  him  in  his  place, 
but  a  man  no  woman  can  know.  In  fact,  Mrs. 
Carson,"  Gordon  went  on,  addressing  himself 
to  the  mother,  "when  you  have  to  say  that  a 
woman  has  absolutely  no  reputation  whatever 
you  can  best  express  it  by  explaining  that  she 
has  a  title  from  Louis  of  Messina.  That  is  his 
Majesty's  way  of  treating  his  feminine  friends 
when  they  bore  him  and  he  wants  to  get  rid  of 
them.  He  gives  them  a  title. 

"The  only  thing  the  man  ever  did  that  was 
to  his  credit  and  that  could  be  discussed  in  po 
lite  society  is  what  he  is  doing  now  at  this  place, 
at  this  moment.  For  it  seems,"  Gordon  whis 
pered,  drawing  his  chair  closer,  "that  he  is 
about  to  show  himself  something  of  a  man  af 
ter  all,  and  that  he  is  engaged  in  fitting  out  an 
armed  expedition  with  which  he  hopes  to  re 
cover  his  kingdom.  That's  what  brought  me 
here,  and  I  must  say  I  rather  admire  him  for 
attempting  such  a  thing.  Of  course,  it  was  Ka- 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

lonay  who  put  him  up  to  it;  he  would  never 
have  stirred  from  the  boulevards  if  that  young 
man  had  not  made  him.  But  he  is  here,  never 
theless,  waiting  for  a  favorable  opportunity  to 
sail,  and  he  has  ten  thousand  rifles  and  three 
Maxim  guns  lying  in  his  yacht  out  there  in  the 
harbor.  That's  how  I  came  to  learn  about  it. 
I  was  getting  an  estimate  on  an  outfit  I  was 
thinking  of  taking  into  Yucatan  from  my  old 
gunsmith  in  the  Rue  Scribe,  and  he  dropped  a 
hint  that  he  had  shipped  ten  thousand  rifles  to 
Tangier,  to  Colonel  Erhaupt.  I  have  met  Er- 
haupt  in  Zanzibar,  and  knew  he  was  the  King's 
right-hand  man,  so  I  put  two  and  two  together 
and  decided  I  would  follow  them  up,  and — 

"Yes,  and  now,"  interrupted  Miss  Carson, 
sharply— "and  now  that  you  have  followed 
them  up,  what  do  you  mean  to  do?" 

Gordon  looked  his  surprise  at  her  earnestness, 
but  answered  that  he  did  not  know  what  he 
would  do;  he  thought  he  would  either  ask  them 
to  give  him  a  commission  in  their  expedition, 
and  let  him  help  them  fight,  and  write  an  ac 
count  of  their  adventures  later,  or  he  would 
telegraph  the  story  at  once  to  his  paper.  It  was 
with  him,  he  said,  entirely  a  question  as  to 
which  course  would  be  of  the  greater  news 
value.  If  he  told  what  he  now  knew,  his  paper 
would  be  the  first  of  all  others  to  inform  the 

236 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

world  of  the  expedition  and  the  proposed  revo 
lution;  while  if  he  volunteered  for  the  expedi 
tion  and  waited  until  it  had  failed  or  succeeded, 
he  would  be  able  to  tell  more  eventually,  but 
would  have  to  share  it  with  other  correspon 
dents. 

Miss  Carson  regarded  him  with  an  expression 
in  which  indignation  and  entreaty  were  curi 
ously  blended. 

"Archie,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "you  do 
not  know  what  you  are  doing  or  saying.  You 
are  threatening  to  spoil  the  one  thing  in  my  life 
on  which  I  have  set  my  heart.  The  return  of 
this  man  to  his  throne,  whether  he  is  worthy  or 
not,  means  the  restoration  of  the  Catholic 
Church  on  that  island;  it  means  the  return  of 
the  monks  and  the  rebuilding  of  the  monaster 
ies,  and  the  salvation  of  sixty  thousand  souls.  I 
know  all  that  they  mean  to  do.  I  am  the  one 
who  paid  for  those  rifles  that  brought  you  here; 
you  have  told  me  only  what  I  have  known  for 
months,  and  for  which  I  have  been  earnestly 
working  and  praying.  I  am  not  blinded  by 
these  men.  They  are  not  the  creatures  you  de 
scribe;  but  no  matter  what  they  may  be,  it  is 
only  through  them,  and  through  them  alone, 
that  I  can  do  what  I  have  set  out  to  do." 

Gordon  silenced  her  with  a  sweep  of  his  hand. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  demanded, 
237 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"that  you  are  mixed  up  in  this — with  these — 
that  they  have  taken  money  from  you,  and  told 
you  they  meant  to  use  it  to  re-establish  the 
Church?  Mrs.  Carson,"  he  exclaimed  bitterly, 
turning  upon  her,  "why  have  you  allowed  this 
—what  have  you  been  doing  while  this  was 
going  on?  Do  you  suppose  those  scoundrels 
care  for  the  Church — the  Church,  indeed !  Wait 
until  I  see  them — any  of  them — Erhaupt  by 
choice,  and  I'll  make  them  give  up  every  franc 
you've  lent  them,  or  I'll  horsewhip  and  expose 
them  for  the  gang  of  welshers  and  thimble-rig 
gers  they  are;  or  if  they  prefer  their  own  meth 
ods,  I'll  call  them  out  in  rotation  and  shoot 
their  arms  and  legs  off."  He  stopped  and  drew 
a  long  breath,  either  of  content  that  he  had  dis 
covered  the  situation  in  time  to  take  some  part 
in  it,  or  at  the  prospect  of  a  fight. 

"The  idea  of  you  two  helpless  females  wan 
dering  into  this  den  of  wolves!"  he  exclaimed, 
indignantly.  "It's  about  time  you  had  a  man 
to  look  after  you !  You  go  back  to  your  hotel 
now,  and  let  me  have  a  chat  with  Louis  of  Mes 
sina.  He's  kept  me  waiting  some  twenty  min 
utes  as  it  is,  and  that's  a  little  longer  than  I  can 
give  him.  I'm  not  a  creditor."  He  rose  from 
his  chair;  but  Miss  Carson  put  out  her  hand 
and  motioned  him  to  be  seated. 

"Archie,"  she  said,  "I  like  the  way  you  take 

238 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

this,  even  though  you  are  all  wrong  about  it, 
because  it's  just  like  you  to  fly  into  a  passion 
and  want  to  fight  some  one  for  somebody.  If 
your  conclusions  were  anywhere  near  the  truth, 
you  would  be  acting  very  well.  But  they  are 
not.  The  King  is  not  handling  my  money,  nor 
the  Prince  Kalonay.  It  is  in  the  keeping  of 
Father  Paul,  the  Father  Superior  of  the  Do 
minican  monks,  who  is  the  only  one  of  these 
people  I  know  or  who  knows  me.  He  is  not  a 
swindler,  too,  is  he,  or  a  retired  croupier?  Lis 
ten  to  me  now,  and  do  not  fly  out  like  that  at 
me,  or  at  mother.  It  is  not  her  fault.  Last  sum 
mer  mother  and  I  went  to  Messina  as  tourists, 
and  one  day,  when  passing  through  a  seaport 
town,  we  saw  a  crowd  of  people  on  the  shore, 
standing  or  kneeling  by  the  hundreds  in  a  great 
semicircle  close  to  the  water's  edge.  There  was 
a  priest  preaching  to  them  from  an  open  boat. 
It  was  like  a  scene  from  the  New  Testament, 
and  the  man,  this  Father  Paul,  made  me  think 
of  one  of  the  disciples.  I  asked  them  why  he 
did  not  preach  on  the  land,  and  they  told  me 
that  he  and  all  of  the  priests  had  been  banished 
from  the  island  six  years  before,  and  that  they 
could  only  return  by  stealth  and  dared  not  land 
except  by  night.  When  the  priest  had  finished 
speaking,  I  had  myself  rowed  out  to  his  boat, 
and  I  talked  a  long  time  with  him,  and  he  told 

239 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

me  of  this  plan  to  re-establish  himself  and  his 
order.  I  offered  to  help  him  with  my  money, 
and  he  promised  me  a  letter  to  Cardinal  Na- 
poli.  It  reached  me  on  my  return  to  Rome,  and 
through  the  influence  of  the  Cardinal  I  was 
given  an  audience  with  the  Pope,  and  I  was  en 
couraged  to  aid  Father  Paul  as  far  as  I  could. 
I  had  meant  to  build  a  memorial  church  for 
father,  but  they  urged  me  to  give  the  money 
instead  to  this  cause.  All  my  dealings  until  to 
day  have  been  with  Father  Paul  alone.  I  have 
seen  a  little  of  the  Prince  Kalonay  because  they 
are  always  together;  but  he  has  always  treated 
me  in  a  way  to  which  no  one  could  take  excep 
tion,  and  he  is  certainly  very  much  in  earnest. 
When  Father  Paul  left  Paris  mother  and  I  came 
on  here  in  order  to  be  near  him,  and  that  is  how 
you  find  me  at  Tangier.  And  now  that  you 
understand  how  much  this  means  to  me,  I  know 
you  will  not  do  anything  to  stand  in  our  way. 
Those  men  inside  are  afraid  that  you  came  here 
for  just  the  reason  that  apparently  has  brought 
you,  and  when  they  saw  you  a  little  while  ago 
through  the  windows  they  were  greatly  dis 
turbed.  Let  me  tell  them  that  you  mean  to  vol 
unteer  for  the  campaign.  The  King  cannot  re 
fuse  the  services  of  a  man  who  has  done  the 
things  you  are  always  doing.  And  I  promise 
you  that  for  a  reward  you  shall  be  the  only  one 

240 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

to  tell  the  story  of  our  attempt.  I  promise  you," 
she  repeated  earnestly,  "that  the  day  we  enter 
the  capital,  you  can  cable  whatever  you  please 
and  tell  our  story  to  the  whole  of  Europe." 

"The  story  be  hanged!"  replied  Gordon. 
"You  have  made  this  a  much  more  serious 
business  than  a  newspaper  story.  You  misun 
derstand  me  utterly,  Patty.  I  am  here  now 
because  I  am  not  going  to  have  you  compro 
mised  and  robbed." 

The  girl  stood  up  and  looked  down  at  the 
young  man  indignantly. 

"You  have  no  right  whatever  to  use  that  tone 
to  me,"  she  said.  "I  am  of  age  and  my  own 
adviser.  I  am  acting  for  the  good  of  a  great 
number  of  people,  and  according  to  what  my 
conscience  and  common  sense  tell  me  is  right. 
I  shall  hate  you  if  you  attempt  to  interfere. 
You  can  do  one  of  two  things,  Archie.  I  give 
you  your  choice:  you  can  either  go  with  them 
as  a  volunteer,  and  promise  to  keep  our  secret; 
or  you  can  cable  what  you  know  now,  what  you 
know  only  by  accident,  but  if  you  do,  you  will 
lose  your  best  friend,  and  you  will  defeat  a  good 
and  a  noble  effort." 

Gordon  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  looked 
up  at  her  steadily  for  a  brief  moment,  and  then 
rose  with  a  smile,  and  bowed  to  the  two  women 
in  silence.  He  crossed  the  terrace  quickly  with 

241 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

an  amused  and  puzzled  countenance,  and  walked 
into  the  breakfast-room,  from  the  windows  of 
which,  as  he  rightly  guessed,  the  five  conspira 
tors  had  for  some  time  observed  him.  He 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  men  about 
the  table,  until  his  eyes  finally  met  those  of  the 
King. 

"I  believe,  sir,  you  are  leading  an  expedition 
against  the  Republic  of  Messina?'*  Gordon 
said.  "I  am  afraid  it  can't  start  unless  you 
take  me  with  you." 


242 


Ill 


THE  presence  in  Tangier  of  the  King  of  Mes 
sina  and  his  suite,  and  the  arrival  there  of  the 
French  noblemen  who  had  volunteered  for  the 
expedition,  could  not  escape  the  observation 
of  the  resident  Consuls-General  and  of  the  for 
eign  colony,  and  dinners,  riding  and  hunting 
parties,  pig-sticking,  and  excursions  on  horse 
back  into  the  outlying  country  were  planned 
for  their  honor  and  daily  entertainment.  Had 
the  conspirators  held  aloof  from  these,  the  resi 
dents  might  have  asked,  since  it  was  not  to  enjoy 
themselves,  what  was  the  purpose  of  their  stay 
in  Tangier;  and  so,  to  allay  suspicion  as  to  their 
real  object,  different  members  of  the  expedition 
had  been  assigned  from  time  to  time  to  repre 
sent  the  visitors  at  these  festivities.  On  the 
morning  following  the  return  of  the  yacht  from 
Messina,  an  invitation  to  ride  to  a  farm-house 
some  miles  out  of  Tangier  and  to  breakfast 
there  had  been  sent  to  the  visitors,  and  the  King 
had  directed  the  Prince  Kalonay,  and  half  of 
the  delegation  from  Paris,  to  accept  it  in  his 
name. 

They  were  well  content  to  go,  and  rode  forth 
gayly  and  in  high  spirits,  for  the  word  had  been 

243 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

brought  them  early  in  the  morning  that  the  ex 
pedition  was  already  prepared  to  move,  and  that 
same  evening  at  midnight  the  yacht  would  set 
sail  for  Messina.  They  were  careless  as  to  what 
fortune  waited  for  them  there.  The  promise  of 
much  excitement,  of  fighting  and  of  danger,  of 
possible  honor  and  success,  stirred  the  hearts 
of  the  young  men  gloriously,  and  as  they  gal 
loped  across  the  plains,  or  raced  each  other 
from  point  to  point,  or  halted  to  jump  their 
ponies  across  the  many  gaping  crevices  which 
the  sun  had  split  in  the  surface  of  the  plain,  they 
filled  the  still,  warm  air  with  their  shouts  and 
laughter.  In  the  party  there  were  many  ladies, 
and  the  groups  changed  and  formed  again  as 
they  rode  forward,  spread  out  on  either  side  of 
the  caravan-trail  and  covering  the  plain  like  a 
skirmish  line  of  cavalry.  But  Kalonay  kept 
close  at  Miss  Carson's  stirrup,  whether  she 
walked  her  pony  or  sent  him  flying  across  the 
hard,  sun-baked  soil. 

"I  hope  you  won't  do  that  again,"  he  said, 
earnestly,  as  she  drew  up  panting,  with  her 
sailor  hat  and  hair  falling  to  her  shoulders. 
They  had  been  galloping  recklessly  over  the 
open  crevices  in  the  soil. 

"It's  quite  the  nastiest  country  I  ever  saw," 
he  said.  "  It  looks  as  though  an  earthquake  had 
shaken  it  open  and  had  forgotten  to  close  it 

244 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

again.  Believe  me,  it  is  most  unsafe  and  dan 
gerous.  Your  pony  might  stumble —  He 
stopped,  as  though  the  possibilities  were  too 
serious  for  words,  but  the  girl  laughed. 

"It's  no  more  dangerous  than  riding  across 
our  prairie  at  dusk  when  you  can't  see  the 
barbed  wire.  You  are  the  last  person  in  the 
world  to  find  fault  because  a  thing  is  danger 
ous,"  she  added. 

They  had  reached  the  farm,  where  they  went 
to  breakfast,  and  the  young  Englishman  who 
was  their  host  was  receiving  his  guests  in  his 
garden,  and  the  servants  were  passing  among 
them,  carrying  cool  drinks  and  powdered  sweets 
and  Turkish  coffee.  Kalonay  gave  their  ponies 
to  a  servant  and  pointed  with  his  whip  to  an 
arbor  that  stood  at  one  end  of  the  garden. 

"May  we  sit  down  there  a  moment  until  they 
call  us?"  he  said.  "I  have  news  of  much  im 
portance — and  I  may  not  have  another  chance," 
he  begged,  looking  at  her  wistfully.  The  girl 
stood  motionless;  her  eyes  were  serious,  and 
she  measured  the  distance  down  the  walk  to 
the  arbor  as  though  she  saw  it  beset  with  dan 
gers  more  actual  than  precipices  and  twisted 
wire.  The  Prince  watched  her  as  though  his 
fate  was  being  weighed  in  his  presence. 

"Very  well,"  she  said  at  last,  and  moved  on 
before  him  down  the  garden-path. 

245 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

The  arbor  was  open  to  the  air  with  a  low, 
broad  roof  of  palm-leaves  that  overhung  it  on 
all  sides  and  left  it  in  deep  shadow.  Around  it 
were  many  strange  plants  and  flowers,  some  na 
tive  to  Morocco  and  some  transplanted  from 
their  English  home.  From  where  they  sat  they 
could  see  the  other  guests  moving  in  and  out 
among  the  groves  of  orange  and  olive  trees 
and  swaying  palms,  and  standing,  outlined 
against  the  blue  sky,  upon  the  low,  flat  roof  of 
the  farm-house. 

"  I  have  dared  to  ask  you  to  be  so  good  as  to 
give  me  this  moment,"  the  Prince  said  humbly, 
"only  because  I  am  going  away,  and  it  may  be 
my  last  chance  to  speak  with  you.  You  do  not 
mind?  You  do  not  think  I  presume?" 

"No,  I  do  not  mind,"  said  the  girl,  smiling. 
"In  my  country  we  do  not  think  it  a  terrible 
offense  to  talk  to  a  girl  at  a  garden-party.  But 
you  said  there  was  something  of  importance  you 
wanted  to  say  to  me.  You  mean  the  expedi 
tion?" 

"Yes,"  said  Kalonay.  "We  start  this  eve 
ning." 

The  girl  raised  her  head  slightly  and  stared 
past  him  at  the  burning  white  walls  and  the 
burning  blue  sky  that  lay  outside  the  circle  of 
shadow  in  which  they  sat. 

"This  evening — "  she  repeated  to  herself. 
246 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"We  reach  there  in  two  days,"  Kalonay  con 
tinued;  "and  then  we — then  we  go  on — until 
we  enter  the  capital." 

The  girl's  head  was  bent,  and  she  looked  at  her 
hands  as  they  lay  in  her  lap  and  frowned  at  them, 
they  seemed  so  white  and  pretty  and  useless. 

''Yes,  you  go  on,"  she  repeated,  "and  we 
stay  here.  You  are  a  man  and  able  to  go  on.  I 
know  what  that  means.  And  you  like  it,"  she 
added,  with  a  glance  of  mingled  admiration  and 
fear.  "You  are  glad  to  fight  and  to  risk  death 
and  to  lead  men  on  to  kill  other  men." 

Kalonay  drew  lines  in  the  sand  with  his  rid 
ing-whip,  and  did  not  raise  his  head. 

"I  suppose  it  is  because  you  are  fighting  for 
your  home,"  the  girl  continued,  "and  to  set 
your  country  free,  and  that  you  can  live  with 
your  own  people  again,  and  because  it  is  a  holy 
war.  That  must  be  it.  Now  that  it  is  really 
come,  I  see  it  all  differently.  I  see  things  I  had 
not  thought  about  before.  They  frighten  me," 
she  said. 

The  Prince  raised  his  head  and  faced  the  girl, 
clasping  the  end  of  his  whip  nervously  in  his 
hand. 

"  If  we  should  win  the  island  for  the  King," 
he  said,  "I  believe  it  will  make  a  great  change 
in  me.  I  shall  be  able  to  go  freely  then  to  my 
home,  as  you  say,  to  live  there  always,  to  give 

247 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

up  the  life  I  have  led  on  the  Continent.  It  has 
been  a  foolish  life — a  dog's  life — and  I  have  no 
one  to  blame  for  it  but  myself.  I  made  it  worse 
than  it  need  to  have  been.  But  if  we  win,  I 
have  promised  myself  that  I  will  not  return  to 
it;  and  if  we  fail  I  shall  not  return  to  it,  for  the 
reason  that  I  shall  have  been  killed.  I  shall 
have  much  power  if  we  win.  When  I  say  much 
power,  I  mean  much  power  in  Messina,  in  that 
little  corner  of  the  world,  and  I  wish  to  use  it 
worthily  and  well.  I  am  afraid  I  should  not 
have  thought  of  it,"  he  went  on,  naively,  as 
though  he  were  trying  to  be  quite  fair,  "had 
not  Father  Paul  pointed  out  to  me  what  I  should 
do,  how  I  could  raise  the  people  and  stop  the 
abuses  which  made  them  drive  us  from  the 
island.  The  people  must  be  taxed  less  heavily, 
and  the  money  must  be  spent  for  them  and  not 
for  us,  on  roads  and  harbors  and  schools,  not 
at  the  Palace  on  banquets  and  fetes.  These 
are  Father  Paul's  ideas,  not  mine, — but  now  I 
make  them  mine."  He  rose  and  paced  the 
length  of  the  little  arbor,  his  hands  clasped  be 
hind  him  and  his  eyes  bent  on  the  ground. 
"Yes,  that  is  what  I  mean  to  do,"  he  said. 
'That  is  the  way  I  mean  to  live.  And  if  we 
fail,  I  mean  to  be  among  those  who  are  to  die 
on  the  fortifications  of  the  capital,  so  that  with 
me  the  Kalonay  family  will  end,  and  end  fight- 

248 


"  I  suppose  it  is  because  you  are  fighting  for  your  home." 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

ing  for  the  King,  as  many  of  my  people  have 
done  before  me.  There  is  no  other  way.  For 
me  there  shall  be  no  more  idleness  nor  exile.  I 
must  either  live  on  to  help  my  people,  or  I  must 
die  with  them."  He  stopped  in  his  walk  and 
regarded  the  girl  closely.  ''You  may  be  think 
ing,  it  is  easy  for  him  to  promise  this,  it  is  easy 
to  speak  of  what  one  will  do.  I  know  that.  I 
know  that  I  can  point  back  at  nothing  I  have 
done  that  gives  me  any  right  to  ask  you  to  be 
lieve  me  now.  But  I  do  ask  it,  for  if  you  be 
lieve  me — believe  what  I  say — it  makes  it  easier 
for  me  to  tell  you  why  after  this  I  must  live 
worthily.  But  you  know  why?  You  must 
know;  it  is  not  possible  that  you  do  not  know." 
He  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  bench,  lean 
ing  forward  and  crushing  his  hands  together  on 
his  knee.  "It  is  because  I  love  you.  Because 
I  love  you  so  that  everything  which  is  not 
worthy  is  hateful  to  me,  myself  most  of  all.  It 
is  the  only  thing  that  counts.  I  used  to  think 
I  knew  what  love  meant;  I  used  to  think  love 
was  a  selfish  thing  that  needed  love  in  return, 
that  it  must  be  fed  on  love  to  live,  that  it 
needed  vows  and  tender  speeches  and  caresses, 
or  it  would  die.  I  know  now  that  when  one 
truly  cares,  he  does  not  ask  whether  the  other 
cares  or  not.  It  is  what  one  gives  that  counts, 
not  what  one  receives.  You  have  given  me 

249 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

nothing — nothing — not  a  word  nor  a  look;  yet 
since  I  have  known  you  I  have  been  more  madly 
happy  in  just  knowing  that  you  live  than  I 
would  have  been  had  any  other  woman  in  all 
the  world  thrown  herself  into  my  arms  and  said 
she  loved  me  above  all  other  men.  I  am  not 
fit  to  tell  you  this.  But  to-night  I  go  to  try 
myself,  either  never  to  see  you  again,  or  to 
come  back  perhaps  more  worthy  to  love  you. 
Think  of  this  when  I  am  gone.  Do  not  speak 
to  me  now.  I  may  have  made  you  hate  me  for 
speaking  so,  or  I  may  have  made  you  pity  me; 
so  let  me  go  not  knowing,  just  loving  you,  wor 
shipping  you,  and  holding  you  apart  and  above 
all  other  people.  I  go  to  fight  for  you,  do  you 
understand?  Not  for  our  Church,  not  for  my 
people,  but  for  you,  to  live  or  die  for  you.  And 
I  ask  nothing  from  you  but  that  you  will  let  me 
love  you  always." 

The  Prince  bent,  and  catching  up  Miss  Car 
son's  riding-gloves  that  lay  beside  her  on  the 
bench,  kissed  them  again  and  again,  and  then, 
rising  quickly,  walked  out  of  the  arbor  into  the 
white  sunshine,  and,  without  turning,  mounted 
his  pony  and  galloped  across  the  burning  desert 
in  the  direction  of  Tangier. 

Archie  Gordon  had  not  been  invited  to  join 
the  excursion  into  the  country,  nor  would  he 

250 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

have  accepted  it,  for  he  wished  to  be  by  him 
self  that  he  might  review  the  situation  and  con 
sider  what  lay  before  him.  He  sat  with  his 
long  legs  dangling  over  the  broad  rampart 
which  overlooks  the  harbor  of  Tangier.  He 
was  whistling  meditatively  to  himself  and  beat 
ing  an  accompaniment  to  the  tune  with  his 
heels.  At  intervals  he  ceased  whistling  while 
he  placed  a  cigar  between  his  teeth  and  pulled 
upon  it  thoughtfully,  resuming  his  tune  again 
at  the  point  where  it  had  been  interrupted. 
Below  him  the  waves  ran  up  lazily  on  the  level 
beach  and  sank  again,  dragging  the  long  sea 
weed  with  them,  as  they  swept  against  the 
sharp  rocks,  and  exposed  them  for  an  instant, 
naked  and  glistening  in  the  sun.  On  either  side 
of  him  the  town  stretched  to  meet  the  low, 
white  sand-hills  in  a  crescent  of  low,  white 
houses  pierced  by  green  minarets  and  royal 
palms.  A  warm  sun  had  sent  the  world  to  sleep 
at  mid-day,  and  an  enforced  peace  hung  over 
the  glaring  white  town  and  the  sparkling  blue 
sea.  Gordon  blinked  at  the  glare,  but  his  eyes 
showed  no  signs  of  drowsiness.  They  were,  on 
the  contrary,  awake  to  all  that  passed  on  the 
highroad  behind  him,  and  on  the  sandy  beach 
at  his  feet,  while  at  the  same  time  his  mind  was 
busily  occupied  in  reviewing  what  had  occurred 
the  day  before,  and  in  adjusting  new  condi- 

251 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

tions.  At  the  hotel  he  had  found  that  the  situa 
tion  was  becoming  too  complicated,  and  that  it 
was  impossible  to  feel  sure  of  the  truth  of  any 
thing,  or  of  the  sincerity  of  any  one.  Since  the 
luncheon  hour  the  day  before  he  had  become  a 
fellow-conspirator  with  men  who  were  as  ob 
jectionable  to  him  in  every  way  as  he  knew  he 
was  obnoxious  to  them.  But  they  had  been 
forced  to  accept  him  because,  so  they  sup 
posed,  he  had  them  at  the  mercy  of  his  own 
pleasure.  He  knew  their  secret,  and  in  the 
legitimate  pursuit  of  his  profession  he  could, 
if  he  chose,  inform  the  island  of  Messina,  with 
the  rest  of  the  world,  of  their  intention  toward 
it,  and  bring  their  expedition  to  an  end,  though 
he  had  chosen,  as  a  reward  for  his  silence,  to 
become  one  of  themselves.  Only  the  Countess 
Zara  had  guessed  the  truth,  that  it  was  Gordon 
himself  who  was  at  their  mercy,  and  that  so 
long  as  the  American  girl  persisted  in  casting 
her  fortunes  with  them  her  old  young  friend  was 
only  too  eager  to  make  any  arrangement  with 
them  that  would  keep  him  at  her  side. 

It  was  a  perplexing  position,  and  Gordon 
turned  it  over  and  over  in  his  mind.  Had  it 
not  been  that  Miss  Carson  had  a  part  in  it  he 
would  have  enjoyed  the  adventure,  as  an  ad 
venture,  keenly.  He  had  no  objections  to  fight 
ing  on  the  side  of  rascals,  or  against  rascals.  He 

252 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

objected  to  them  only  in  the  calmer  moments  of 
private  life;  and  as  he  was  of  course  ignorant 
that  the  expedition  was  only  a  make-believe, 
he  felt  a  certain  respect  for  his  fellow-conspira 
tors  as  men  who  were  willing  to  stake  their 
lives  for  a  chance  of  better  fortune.  But  that 
their  bravery  was  of  the  kind  which  would 
make  them  hesitate  to  rob  and  deceive  a  help 
less  girl  he  very  much  doubted;  for  he  knew 
that  even  the  bravest  of  warriors  on  their  way 
to  battle  will  requisition  a  herd  of  cattle  or  stop 
to  loot  a  temple.  The  day  before,  Gordon  had 
witnessed  the  brief  ceremony  which  attended 
the  presentation  of  the  young  noblemen  from 
Paris  who  had  volunteered  for  the  expedition 
in  all  good  faith,  and  he  reviewed  it  and  analyzed 
it  as  he  sat  smoking  on  the  ramparts. 

It  had  been  an  impressive  ceremony,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  so  few  had  taken  part  in  it,  but 
the  earnestness  of  the  visitors  and  the  enthu 
siasm  of  Kalonay  and  the  priest  had  made  up  for 
the  lack  of  numbers.  The  scene  had  appealed 
to  him  as  one  of  the  most  dramatic  he  had  wit 
nessed  in  the  pursuit  of  a  calling  in  which  look 
ing  on  at  real  dramas  was  the  most  frequent 
duty,  and  he  had  enjoyed  the  strange  mixture 
of  ancient  terms  of  address  and  titles  with  the 
modern  manners  of  the  men  themselves.  It 
had  interested  him  to  watch  Baron  Barrat  bring 

253 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

out  the  ancient  crown  and  jewelled  sceptre 
which  had  been  the  regalia  of  all  the  Kings  of 
Messina  since  the  Crusades  and  spread  them 
out  upon  a  wicker  tea-table,  from  which  Nicco- 
las  had  just  removed  some  empty  coffee- 
cups,  half  filled  with  the  ends  of  cigarettes, 
some  yellow-backed  novels,  and  a  copy  of  the 
Paris  Figaro.  It  was  also  interesting  to  him  to 
note  how  the  sight  of  the  little  heir-apparent 
affected  both  the  peasants  from  the  mountains 
and  the  young  nobles  from  the  Club  Royale. 
The  former  fell  upon  their  knees  with  the  tears 
rolling  down  the  furrows  in  their  tanned  cheeks, 
while  the  little  wise-eyed  boy  stood  clinging  to 
his  nurse's  skirts  with  one  hand  and  to  his 
father's  finger  with  the  other,  and  nodded  his 
head  at  them  gravely  like  a  toy  mandarin. 

Then  the  King  had  addressed  them  in  a  dig 
nified,  earnest,  and  almost  eloquent  speech,  and 
had  promised  much  and  prophesied  the  best  of 
fortunes,  and  then,  at  the  last,  had  turned  sud 
denly  toward  Miss  Carson,  where  she  stood  in 
the  background  between  her  mother  and  Father 
Paul. 

"  Every  cause  has  its  Joan  of  Arc,  or  its  Maria 
Theresa,"  he  cried,  looking  steadfastly  at  Miss 
Carson.  "No  cause  has  succeeded  without  some 
good  woman  to  aid  it.  To  help  us,  my  friends, 
we  have  a  daughter  of  the  people,  as  was  Joan 

254 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

of  Arc,  and  a  queen,  as  was  Maria  Theresa,  for 
she  comes  from  that  country  where  every  woman 
is  a  queen  in  her  own  right,  and  where  the  love 
of  liberty  is  inherent."  The  King  took  a  quick 
step  backward,  and  taking  Miss  Carson's  hand 
drew  her  forward  beside  him  and  placed  her 
facing  his  audience,  while  the  girl  made  vain 
efforts  to  withdraw  her  hand.  "This  is  she," 
he  said  earnestly,  "the  true  daughter  of  the 
Church  who  has  made  it  possible  for  us  to  re 
turn  to  our  own  again.  It  is  due  to  her  that 
the  King  of  Messina  shall  sit  once  more  on  his 
throne;  it  is  through  her  generosity  alone  that 
the  churches  will  rise  from  their  ruins  and  that 
you  will  once  again  hear  the  Angelus  ring  across 
the  fields  at  sunset.  Remember  her,  my  friends 
and  cousins,  pray  for  her  as  a  saint  upon  earth, 
and  fight  gloriously  to  help  her  to  success!" 

Gordon  had  restrained  himself  with  difficulty 
while  this  scene  was  being  enacted;  he  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  the  King  touching  the 
girl's  hand.  He  struggled  to  prevent  himself 
from  crying  out  at  the  false  position  into  which 
he  had  dragged  her;  and  yet  there  was  some 
thing  so  admirably  sincere  in  the  King's  words, 
something  so  courteous  and  manly,  that  it 
robbed  his  words  of  all  the  theatrical  effect  they 
held,  and  his  tribute  to  the  girl  filled  even  Gor 
don  with  an  emotion  which  on  the  part  of  the 

255 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

young  nobles  found  expression  in  cheer  upon 
cheer. 

Gordon  recalled  these  cheers  and  the  looks  of 
wondering  admiration  which  had  been  turned 
upon  Miss  Carson,  and  he  grew  so  hot  at  the 
recollection  that  he  struck  the  wall  beside  him 
savagely  with  his  clinched  fist,  and  damned  the 
obstinacy  of  his  young  and  beautiful  friend  with 
a  sincerity  and  vigor  that  was  the  highest  ex 
pression  of  his  interest  in  her  behalf. 

He  threw  his  cigar  into  the  rampart  at  his 
feet  and  dropped  back  into  the  highroad.  It 
was  deserted  at  the  time,  except  for  the  presence 
of  a  tall,  slightly  built  stranger,  who  advanced 
toward  him  from  the  city  gates.  The  man  was 
dressed  in  garments  of  European  fashion  and 
carried  himself  like  a  soldier,  and  Gordon  put 
him  down  at  a  glance  as  one  of  the  volunteers 
from  Paris.  The  stranger  was  walking  leisurely, 
stopping  to  gaze  at  the  feluccas  in  the  bay,  and 
then  turning  to  look  up  at  the  fortress  on  the 
hill.  He  seemed  to  have  no  purpose  in  his  walk 
except  the  interest  of  a  tourist,  and  as  he  drew 
up  even  with  Gordon  he  raised  his  helmet  po 
litely  and,  greeting  him  in  English,  asked  if  he 
were  on  the  right  road  to  the  Bashaw's  Palace. 
Gordon  pointed  to  where  the  white  walls  of  the 
palace  rose  above  the  other  white  walls  about 
it. 

256 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"That  is  it,"  he  said.  "All  the  roads  lead  to 
it.  You  keep  going  up  hill." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  stranger.  "I  see  I 
have  taken  a  long  way."  He  put  his  white  um 
brella  in  the  sand,  and,  removing  his  helmet, 
mopped  his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief. 
"It  is  a  curious  old  town,  Tangier,"  he  said, 
affably,  "but  too  many  hills,  is  it  not  so?  Al 
giers  I  like  better.  There  is  more  life." 

"Yes,  Algiers  is  almost  as  good  as  the  boule 
vards,"  Gordon  assented,  "if  you  like  the  boule 
vards.  I  prefer  this  place  because  it  is  unspoiled. 
But,  as  you  say,  there  is  not  much  to  do  here." 

The  stranger's  eyes  fell  upon  the  Hotel  Grande- 
Bretagne,  which  stood  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away 
from  them  on  the  beach. 

"That  is  the  Hotel  Bretagne,  is  it  not?"  he 
asked.  Gordon  answered  him  with  a  nod. 

'The  King  Louis  of  Messina,  so  the  chasseur 
at  the  hotel  tells  me,  is  stopping  there  en  suite?" 
the  stranger  added,  with  an  interrogative  air  of 
one  who  volunteers  an  interesting  fact,  and  who 
asks  if  it  is  true  at  the  same  moment. 

"I  can't  say,  I'm  sure,"  Gordon  replied.  "I 
only  arrived  here  yesterday." 

The  stranger  bowed  his  head  in  recognition 
of  this  piece  of  personal  information,  and,  put 
ting  on  his  helmet,  picked  up  his  umbrella  as 
though  to  continue  his  stroll.  As  he  did  so  his 

257 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

eyes  wandered  over  the  harbor  and  were  ar 
rested  with  apparent  interest  by  the  yacht, 
which  lay  a  conspicuous  object  on  the  blue 
water.  He  pointed  at  it  with  his  umbrella. 

"One  of  your  English  men-of-war  is  in  the 
harbor,  I  see.  She  is  very  pretty,  but  not  large; 
not  so  large  as  many,"  he  said. 

Gordon  turned  his  head  obligingly  and  gazed 
at  the  yacht  with  polite  interest.  "Is  that  a 
man-of-war?  I  thought  it  was  a  yacht,"  he 
said.  "I'm  not  familiar  with  the  English  war- 
vessels.  I  am  an  American." 

"Ah,  indeed!"  commented  the  affable 
stranger.  "I  am  French  myself,  but  I  think 
she  is  a  man-of-war.  I  saw  her  guns  when  I 
passed  on  the  steamer  from  Gibraltar." 

Gordon  knew  that  the  steamer  did  not  pass 
within  half  a  mile  of  where  the  yacht  lay  at 
anchor,  but  he  considered  it  might  be  possible 
to  see  her  decks  with  the  aid  of  a  glass. 

"You  may  be  right,"  he  answered,  indiffer 
ently.  As  he  turned  his  eyes  from  the  boat  he 
saw  a  woman,  dressed  in  white,  and  carrying  a 
parasol,  leave  the  gardens  of  the  Hotel  Bre- 
tagne  and  come  toward  them  along  the  beach. 
The  Frenchman,  following  the  direction  of  his 
eyes,  saw  her  also,  and  regarded  her  instantly 
with  such  evident  concern  that  Gordon,  who 
had  recognized  her  even  at  that  distance  as  the 

258 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

Countess  Zara,  felt  assured  that  his  inquisitor 
held,  as  he  had  already  suspected,  more  than  a 
tourist's  interest  in  Tangier, 

"Well,  I  will  wish  you  a  good-morning,"  said 
the  Frenchman,  hurriedly. 

"Good-morning,"  Gordon  replied,  and  taking 
a  cigar  from  his  case,  he  seated  himself  again 
upon  the  rampart.  As  he  walked  away  the 
stranger  glanced  back  over  his  shoulder,  but 
Gordon  was  apparently  absorbed  in  watching 
the  waves  below  him,  and  had  lost  all  interest 
in  his  chance  acquaintance.  But  he  watched 
both  the  woman  and  the  Frenchman  as  they  ad 
vanced  slowly  from  opposite  directions  and 
drew  nearer  together,  and  he  was  not  alto 
gether  surprised,  when  the  man  was  within 
twenty  feet  of  her,  to  see  her  start  and  stand 
still,  and  then,  with  the  indecision  of  a  hunted 
animal,  move  uncertainly,  and  then  turn  and 
run  in  the  direction  of  the  hotel.  Something 
the  man  apparently  called  after  her  caused  her 
to  stop,  and  Gordon  observed  them  now  with 
undisguised  interest  as  they  stood  conversing 
together,  oblivious  of  the  conspicuous  mark 
they  made  on  the  broad  white  beach  under  the 
brilliant  sun. 

"I  wonder  what  he's  up  to  now?"  Gordon 
mused.  "He  was  trying  to  pump  me,  that's 
evident,  and  he  certainly  recognized  the  lady, 

259 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

and  she  apparently  did  not  want  to  recognize 
him.  I  wonder  if  he  is  a  rejected  lover,  or  an 
other  conspirator.  This  is  a  most  amusing 
place,  nothing  but  plots  and  counterplots  and 
—Hello!"  he  exclaimed  aloud.  The  man  had 
moved  quickly  past  Madame  Zara,  and  had 
started  toward  the  hotel,  and  Zara  had  held 
out  her  hand  to  him,  as  though  to  entreat  him 
to  remain.  But  he  did  not  stop,  and  she  had 
taken  a  few  uncertain  steps  after  him,  and  had 
then,  much  to  the  American's  dismay,  fallen 
limply  on  her  back  on  the  soft  sand.  She  was 
not  a  hundred  yards  distant  from  where  he  sat, 
and  in  an  instant  he  had  slipped  from  the  wall, 
and  dropped  on  his  hands  and  knees  on  the 
beach  below.  When  Gordon  reached  her  the 
Frenchman  had  returned,  and  was  supporting 
her  head  on  his  knee  and  covering  her  head  with 
her  parasol. 

"The  lady  has  fainted!"  he  exclaimed,  ea 
gerly.  His  manner  was  no  longer  one  of  idle  in 
dolence.  He  was  wide  awake  now  and  visibly 
excited. 

"The  sun  has  been  too  much  for  her,"  he 
said.  "It  is  most  dangerous  walking  about  at 
this  time  of  day." 

Gordon  ran  down  the  beach  and  scooped  up 
some  water  in  his  helmet,  and  dipping  his  hand 
kerchief  in  it  bathed  her  temples  and  cheek. 
He  had  time  to  note  that  she  was  a  very  beau- 

260 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

tiful  girl,  and  the  pallor  of  her  face  gave  it  a 
touch  of  gentleness  that  he  had  not  seen  there 
before. 

"I  will  go  to  the  hotel  and  bring  assistance," 
said  the  stranger,  uneasily,  as  the  woman 
showed  signs  of  regaining  consciousness. 

"No,"  said  Gordon,  "you'll  stay  where  you 
are  and  shade  her  with  her  umbrella.  She'll  be 
all  right  in  a  minute." 

The  girl  opened  her  eyes,  and  looking  up 
saw  Gordon  bending  over  her.  She  regarded 
him  for  a  moment  and  made  an  effort  to  rise, 
and  in  her  endeavor  to  do  so  her  eyes  met  those 
of  the  Frenchman,  and  with  a  sharp  moan  she 
shut  them  again  and  threw  herself  from  Gor 
don's  knee  to  the  sand. 

"Give  me  that  umbrella,"  said  Gordon,  "and 
go  stand  over  there  out  of  the  way." 

The  man  rose  from  his  knee  without  showing 
any  resentment  and  walked  some  little  distance 
away,  where  he  stood  writh  his  arms  folded, 
looking  out  to  sea.  He  seemed  much  too  occu 
pied  with  something  of  personal  interest  to  con 
cern  himself  with  a  woman's  fainting-spell. 
The  girl  lifted  herself  slowly  to  her  elbow,  and 
then,  before  Gordon  could  assist  her,  rose  with 
a  quick,  graceful  movement  and  stood  erect 
upon  her  feet.  She  placed  a  detaining  hand  for 
an  instant  on  the  American's  arm. 

" Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said.  "I  am 
261 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

afraid  I  have  been  imprudent  in  going  out  into 
the  sun."  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  French 
man,  who  stood  moodily  staring  at  the  sea  and 
tearing  one  of  his  finger-nails  with  his  teeth. 
He  seemed  utterly  oblivious  of  their  presence. 
The  girl  held  out  her  hand  for  the  parasol  she 
had  dropped  and  took  it  from  Gordon  with  a 
bow. 

"May  I  walk  back  with  you  to  your  hotel?" 
he  asked.  "Unless  this  gentleman : 

"  Thank  you,"  the  girl  said,  in  tones  which 
the  Frenchman  could  have  easily  overheard  had 
he  been  listening.  "  I  am  quite  able  to  go  alone 
now;  it  is  only  a  step." 

She  was  still  regarding  the  Frenchman  closely; 
but  as  he  was  obviously  unconscious  of  them 
she  moved  so  that  Gordon  hid  her  from  him, 
and  in  an  entirely  different  voice  she  said, 
speaking  rapidly,— 

!<You  are  Mr.  Gordon,  the  American  who 
joined  us  last  night.  That  man  is  a  spy  from 
Messina.  He  is  Renauld,  the  Commander-in- 
Chief  of  their  army.  He  must  be  gotten  away 
from  here  at  once.  It  is  a  matter  for  a  man  to 
attend  to.  Will  you  do  it?" 

"How  do  you  know  this?"  Gordon  asked. 
"How  do  you  know  he  is  General  Renauld?  I 
want  to  be  certain." 

The  girl  tossed  her  head  impatiently. 
262 


THE   KING'S  JACKAL 

"He  was  pointed  out  to  me  at  Messina.  I 
saw  him  there  in  command  at  a  review.  He  has 
just  spoken  to  me — that  was  what  frightened 
me  into  that  fainting-spell.  I  didn't  think  I  was 
so  weak,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head.  "He 
offered  me  a  bribe  to  inform  him  of  our  plans. 
I  tell  you  he  is  a  spy." 

'That's  all  right,"  said  Gordon,  reassuringly; 
"you  go  back  to  the  hotel  now  and  send  those 
guards  here  on  a  run.  I'll  make  a  charge  against 
him  and  have  him  locked  up  until  after  we  sail 
to-night.  Hurry,  please;  I'll  stay  here." 

Gordon  felt  a  pleasurable  glow  of  excitement. 
It  was  his  nature  to  throw  himself  into  every 
thing  he  did  and  to  at  once  become  a  partisan. 
It  was  a  quality  which  made  his  writings  at 
tractive  to  the  reader,  and  an  object  of  concern 
to  his  editor.  At  the  very  word  "spy,"  and  at 
this  first  hint  of  opposition  to  the  cause  in 
which  he  had  but  just  enlisted,  he  thrilled  as 
though  it  had  always  been  his  own,  and  he  re 
garded  the  Frenchman  with  a  personal  dislike 
as  sudden  as  it  was  unfounded. 

The  Frenchman  had  turned  and  was  walking 
in  the  direction  of  the  city  gate.  His  eyes  were 
bent  on  the  sandy  beach  which  stretched  before 
him,  and  he  made  his  way  utterly  unmindful 
of  the  waves  that  stole  up  to  his  feet  and  left 
little  pools  of  water  in  his  path.  Gordon  beck- 

263 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

oned  impatiently  to  the  two  soldiers  who  came 
running  toward  him  at  the  hotel,  and  moved 
forward  to  meet  them  the  sooner.  He  took  one 
of  them  by  the  wrist  and  pointed  with  his  other 
hand  at  the  retreating  figure  of  the  Frenchman. 

"That  man,"  he  said,  "is  one  of  the  King's 
enemies.  The  King  is  in  danger  while  that  man 
is  here.  Your  duty  is  to  protect  the  King,  so  he 
gives  this  foreigner  into  your  charge." 

The  soldier  nodded  his  head  in  assent. 

"The  King  himself  sent  us,"  he  replied. 

"You  will  place  him  in  the  Civil  Prison," 
Gordon  continued,  "until  the  King  is  safe  on 
his  yacht,  and  you  will  not  allow  him  to  send 
for  the  French  Consul-General.  If  he  sees  the 
ConsuI-General  he  will  tell  him  a  great  many 
lies  about  you,  and  a  great  war-ship  will  come 
and  your  Bashaw  will  be  forced  to  pay  the  for 
eigners  much  money.  I  will  go  with  you  and 
tell  this  man  in  his  own  tongue  what  you  are 
going  to  do  with  him." 

They  walked  hurriedly  after  the  Frenchman, 
and  when  they  had  overtaken  him  Gordon 
halted  and  bowed. 

"One  moment,  please,"  he  said.  "These  sol 
diers  have  an  order  for  your  arrest.  I  speak 
the  language,  and  if  you  have  anything  to  say 
to  them  I  will  interpret  for  you." 

The  Frenchman  stared  from  Gordon  to  the 
264 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

guards  and  then  laughed  incredulously  but  with 
no  great  confidence.  He  had  much  to  say,  but 
he  demanded  to  know  first  why  he  should  be 
arrested. 

"The  lady  you  insulted,"  Gordon  answered, 
gravely,  "happened,  unfortunately  for  you,  to 
be  one  of  the  King's  guests.  She  has  com 
plained  to  him,  and  he  has  sent  these  soldiers 
to  put  you  where  you  cannot  trouble  her  again. 
You  see,  sir,  you  cannot  annoy  women  with 
impunity  even  in  this  barbarous  country." 

"Insult  her!  I  did  not  insult  her,"  the  man 
retorted.  "That  is  not  the  reason  I  am  ar 
rested." 

"You  annoyed  her  so  much  that  she  fainted. 
I  saw  you,"  said  Gordon,  backing  away  with 
the  evident  purpose  of  abandoning  the  foreigner 
to  his  guards. 

"She  has  lied,"  the  man  cried,  "either  to  the 
King  or  to  me.  I  do  not  know  which,  but  I  am 
here  to  find  out.  That  is  why  I  came  to  Tangier, 
and  I  intend  to  learn  the  truth." 

''You've  begun  rather  badly,"  Gordon  an 
swered,  as  he  still  retreated.  "In  the  Civil 
Prison  your  field  of  investigation  will  be  lim 
ited." 

The  Frenchman  took  a  hasty  step  toward 
him,  shrugging  off  the  hand  one  of  the  soldiers 
had  placed  on  his  shoulder. 

265 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"Are  you  the  Prince  Kalonay,  sir?"  he  de 
manded.  "But  surely  not,"  he  added. 

"No,  I  am  not  the  Prince,"  Gordon  an 
swered.  "I  bid  you  good-morning,  sir." 

:<Then  you  are  on  the  other  side,"  the  man 
called  after  him  eagerly,  with  a  tone  of  great  re 
lief.  "I  have  been  right  from  the  very  first.  I 
see  it  plainly.  It  is  a  double  plot,  and  you  are 
one  of  that  woman's  dupes.  Listen  to  me — I 
beg  of  you,  listen  to  me — I  have  a  story  to  tell." 

Gordon  paused  and  looked  back  at  the  man 
over  his  shoulder,  doubtfully. 

"It's  like  the  Arabian  Nights,"  he  said,  with 
a  puzzled  smile.  "  There  was  once  a  rich  mer 
chant  of  Bagdad  and  the  Sultan  was  going  to 
execute  him,  but  they  put  off  the  execution 
until  he  could  tell  them  the  story  of  the  Beau 
tiful  Countess  and  the  French  Envoy.  I  am 
sorry,"  he  added,  shaking  his  head,  "but  I  can 
not  listen  now.  I  must  not  be  seen  talking  to 
you  at  all,  and  every  one  can  see  us  here." 

They  were  as  conspicuous  figures  on  the  flat 
surface  of  the  beach  as  two  palms  in  a  desert, 
and  Gordon  was  most  anxious  to  escape,  for 
he  was  conscious  that  he  could  be  observed 
from  every  point  in  the  town.  A  hundred  yards 
away,  on  the  terrace  of  the  hotel,  he  saw  the 
King,  Madame  Zara,  Barret,  and  Erhaupt 
standing  together  watching  them. 

266 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"If  the  American  leaves  him  now,  we  are 
safe,"  the  King  was  saying.  He  spoke  in  a 
whisper,  as  though  he  feared  that  even  at  that 
distance  Gordon  and  the  Frenchman  could 
overhear  his  words.  "But  if  he  remains  with 
him  he  will  find  out  the  truth,  and  that  means 
ruin.  He  will  ruin  us." 

"Look,  he  is  coming  this  way,"  Zara  an 
swered.  "He  is  leaving  him.  The  danger  is 

.  » 
past. 

The  Frenchman  raised  his  eyes  and  saw  the 
four  figures  grouped  closely  together  on  the  ter 
race. 

"See,  what  did  I  tell  you?"  he  cried.  "She 
is  with  the  King  now.  It  is  a  plot  within  a  plot, 
and  I  believe  you  know  it,"  he  added,  furiously. 
''  You  are  one  of  these  brave  blackmailers  your 
self — that  is  why  you  will  not  let  me  speak." 

"Blackmailers!"  said  Gordon.  "Confound 
your  impudence,  what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by 
that?" 

But  the  Frenchman  was  staring  angrily  at 
the  distant  group  on  the  terrace,  and  Gordon 
turned  his  eyes  in  the  same  direction.  Some 
thing  he  saw  in  the  strained  and  eager  attitude 
of  the  four  conspirators  moved  him  to  a  sudden 
determination. 

"That  will  do,  you  must  go,"  he  commanded, 
pointing  with  his  arm  toward  the  city  gate; 

267 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

and  before  the  Frenchman  could  reply,  he  gave 
an  order  to  the  guards,  and  they  seized  the  for 
eigner  roughly  by  either  arm  and  hurried  him 
away. 

"Thank  God!"  exclaimed  the  King,  piously. 
'They  have  separated,  and  the  boy  thinks  he  is 
rendering  us  great  service.  Well,  and  so  he  is, 
the  young  fool." 

The  group  on  the  piazza  remained  motion 
less,  watching  Gordon  as  he  leisurely  lit  a  cigar 
and  stood  looking  out  at  the  harbor  until  the 
Frenchman  had  disappeared  inside  the  city 
wall.  Then  he  turned  and  walked  slowly  after 
him. 

"I  do  not  like  that.  I  do  not  like  his  follow 
ing  him,"  said  Barrat,  suspiciously. 

"That  is  nothing,"  answered  the  King.  "He 
is  going  to  play  the  spy  and  see  that  the  man  is 
safely  in  jail.  Then  he  will  return  and  report  to 
us.  We  must  congratulate  him  warmly.  He 
follows  at  a  discreet  distance,  you  observe,  and 
keeps  himself  well  out  of  sight.  The  boy  knows 
better  than  to  compromise  himself  by  being 
seen  in  conversation  with  the  man.  Of  course, 
if  Renauld  is  set  free  we  must  say  we  had  no 
part  in  his  arrest,  that  the  American  made  the 
arrest  on  his  own  authority.  What  a  conve 
nient  tool  the  young  man  is.  Why,  his  coming 
really  frightened  us  at  first,  and  now — now  we 

268 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

make  a  cat's-paw  of  him."  The  King  laughed 
merrily.  "We  undervalue  ourselves  sometimes, 
do  we  not?" 

"He  is  a  nice  boy,"  said  Zara.  "I  feel  rather 
sorry  for  him.  He  looked  so  anxious  and  dis 
tressed  when  I  was  so  silly  as  to  faint  on  the 
beach  just  now.  He  handled  me  as  tenderly  as  a 
woman  would  have  done — not  that  women  have 
generally  handled  me  tenderly,"  she  added. 

"I  was  thinking  the  simile  was  rather  mis 
placed,"  said  the  King. 

Gordon  passed  the  city  wall  and  heard  the 
gates  swing  to  behind  him.  The  Frenchman 
and  his  two  captors  were  just  ahead,  toiling 
heavily  up  the  steep  and  narrow  street.  Gor 
don  threw  his  cigar  from  him  and  ran  leaping 
over  the  huge  cobbles  to  the  Frenchman's  side 
and  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"We  are  out  of  sight  of  the  hotel,  now,  Gen 
eral,"  he  said.  He  pointed  to  the  dark,  cool  re 
cesses  of  a  coffee-shop  and  held  back  the  rug 
that  hung  before  it.  "Come  in  here,"  he  said, 
"and  tell  me  that  story." 


269 


IV 


BARON  BARRAT  was  suspicious  by  education 
—his  experience  of  life  and  his  own  conduct 
had  tended  to  render  him  so;  and  accordingly 
when,  three  hours  after  he  had  seen  Gordon 
apparently  commit  the  French  officer  to  jail, 
he  found  them  leaving  a  cafe  in  the  most  friendly 
and  amicable  spirit,  he  wasted  no  time  in  in 
vestigation,  but  hurried  at  once  to  warn  the 
King. 

"What  we  feared  would  happen,  has  hap 
pened,"  he  said.  :<The  Frenchman  has  told 
Gordon  that  Zara  and  Kalonay  sold  the  secret 
of  the  expedition,  and  Gordon  will  be  coming 
here  to  warn  you  of  it.  Now,  what  are  you 
going  to  do?  We  must  act  quickly/' 

"I  shall  refuse  to  believe  the  Frenchman,  of 
course,"  said  the  King.  "I  shall  ask  Zara  in 
his  presence  to  answer  his  charges,  and  she  will 
tell  him  he  lies.  That  is  all  there  will  be  of  it. 
What  does  it  matter  what  he  says?  We  sail  at 
midnight.  We  can  keep  him  quiet  until  then." 

"  If  he  is  troublesome  I  can  call  for  help  from 
this  room,  and  the  servants  of  the  hotel  and 
the  guards  will  rush  in  and  find  us  struggling 
together.  We  will  charge  him  with  an  attempt 

270 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

at  assassination,  and  this  time  he  surely  will 
go  to  jail.  By  to-morrow  morning  we  shall  be 
many  miles  at  sea." 

"But  he  can  cable  to  Messina,  by  way  of 
Gibraltar,  and  head  us  off,"  objected  Barrat. 

"What  can  he  cable?"  demanded  the  King. 
"Nothing  the  people  of  the  Republic  do  not 
already  know.  It  is  our  friends  here  that  must 
not  find  us  out.  That  is  the  main  thing.  Thank 
Heaven!"  he  exclaimed,  "Kalonay  and  Paul 
are  out  of  the  way,  and  those  crazy  boys  from 
Paris.  We  will  settle  it  here  among  ourselves 
in  five  minutes." 

"And  the  American?"  asked  Zara.  "He 
knows,  he  will  come  with  him.  Suppose  he  be 
lieves,  suppose  he  believes  that  Kalonay  and  I 
have  sold  you  out,  but  suspects  that  you  know 
it?" 

'The  American  can  go  to  the  devil,"  said 
the  King.  "Confound  him  and  his  insolence. 
I'll  have  him  in  the  prison,  too,  if  he  interferes. 
Or  Erhaupt  can  pick  a  quarrel  with  him  here 
and  fight  it  out  behind  the  sand-hills  before  the 
others  get  back  from  their  picnic.  He  has  done 
as  much  for  me  before." 

Zara  stood  up.  She  was  trembling  slightly, 
and  she  glanced  fearfully  from  Erhaupt  to  the 
King. 

"You  will  not  do  that,"  she  said. 
271 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"And  why  not,  madame?"  demanded  Louis. 

"Because  it  will  be  murder,"  Zara  whispered, 
"He  will  murder  him  as  he  did  that  boy  in  the 
Park  at  Pesth." 

"What  does  the  woman  mean?"  growled  the 
German.  "Is  she  mad?  Send  her  to  her  room, 
Louis." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  Zara  answered, 
her  voice  rising,  in  her  excitement.  "You  fired 
before  they  gave  the  word.  I  know  you  did. 
Oh,  Louis,"  she  cried,  "you  never  warned  me  it 
might  come  to  this.  I  am  afraid.  I  am  afraid 
to  meet  that  man 

She  gave  a  sudden  cry.  "And  Kalonay!" 
She  held  out  her  hands  appealingly.  "  Indeed," 
she  cried,  "do  not  let  Kalonay  question  me." 

"Silence!"  commanded  the  King.  "You  are 
acting  like  a  fool."  He  advanced  toward  her, 
and  clasped  her  wrist  firmly  in  his  hand.  "No 
nerves,  now,"  he  said.  "I'll  not  have  it.  You 
shall  meet  Kalonay,  and  you  shall  swear  that 
he  is  in  the  plot  against  me.  If  you  fail  us  now, 
we  are  ruined.  As  it  is,  we  are  sure  to  lose  the 
bribe  from  the  Republic,  but  we  may  still  get 
Miss  Carson's  money  if  you  play  your  part.  It 
is  your  word  and  the  word  of  the  Frenchman 
against  Kalonay's.  And  we  have  the  paper 
signed  by  you  for  Kalonay  as  evidence.  Have 
you  got  it  with  you?" 

272 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

Zara  bowed  her  head.  "It  is  always  with 
me,"  she  answered. 

"Good,"  said  the  King.  "It  will  be  a  diffi 
cult  chance,  but  if  you  stand  to  your  story,  and 
we  pretend  to  believe  you,  the  others  may  be 
lieve  you,  too/' 

"But  I  cannot,"  Zara  cried.  "I  know  I  can 
not.  I  tell  you  if  you  put  me  face  to  face  with 
Kalonay,  I  shall  fail  you.  I  shall  break  down. 
They  will  see  that  I  am  lying.  Send  me  away. 
Send  me  away  before  they  come.  Tell  them  I 
saw  the  Frenchman,  and  suspected  I  had  been 
found  out,  and  that  I  have  gone  away.  Tell 
them  you  don't  know  where  I  am." 

"I  believe  she's  right,"  Erhaupt  said.  "She 
will  do  us  more  harm  than  good.  Let  her  go 
to  her  room  and  wait  there." 

"She  will  remain  where  she  is,"  said  the 
King,  sternly.  "And  she  will  keep  her  courage 
and  her  wits  about  her,  or— 

He  was  interrupted  by  an  exclamation  from 
Barrat.  "Whatever  you  mean  to  do,  you  must 
do  it  at  once,"  he  said,  grimly.  He  was  stand 
ing  at  the  window  which  overlooked  the  beach. 
"Here  they  come  now,"  he  continued.  'The 
American  has  taken  no  chances,  he  is  bringing 
an  audience  with  him." 

The  King  and  Erhaupt  ran  to  the  window, 
and  peered  over  Barrat's  shoulder. 

273 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

Advancing  toward  them  along  the  beach, 
some  on  foot,  and  some  on  horseback,  were  all 
the  members  of  the  expedition,  those  who  had 
been  of  the  riding-party  and  those  who  had  re 
mained  in  Tangier.  Gordon  and  the  French 
man  Renauld  were  far  in  the  lead,  walking  by 
themselves  and  speaking  earnestly  together; 
Father  Paul  was  walking  with  Mrs.  Carson  and 
her  daughter,  and  Kalonay  was  riding  with 
two  of  the  volunteers,  the  Count  de  Rouen  and 
Prince  Henri  of  Poitiers. 

When  the  King  and  Erhaupt  turned  from 
the  window  the  Countess  Zara  had  disappeared. 
"It  is  better  so,"  said  Erhaupt;  "she  was  so 
badly  frightened  she  would  have  told  the 
truth." 

The  King  stood  leaning  on  the  back  of  a 
large  arm-chair.  "Well,  the  moment  has  come, 
it  is  our  last  chance,"  he  said.  "Send  for  the 
Crown  Prince,  Baron.  I  shall  be  discovered 
in  the  act  of  taking  a  tender  farewell  of  my 
son." 

Barrat  made  an  eager  gesture  of  dissent. 

"I  would  not  do  that,"  he  cried.  "If  we  are 
to  make  charges  against  the  Jackal  do  not  have 
the  boy  present;  the  boy  must  not  hear  them. 
You  know  how  Kalonay  worships  the  child, 
and  it  would  enrage  him  more  to  be  exposed 
before  the  Prince  than  before  all  the  rest  of  the 

274 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

world.  He  will  be  hard  enough  to  handle  with 
out  that.  Don't  try  him  too  far." 

"You  are  absurd,  Barrat,"  exclaimed  the 
King.  "The  boy  won't  understand  what  is 
said." 

"No,  but  the  Jackal  will,"  Barrat  returned. 
:<You  don't  understand  him,  Louis,  he  is  like  a 
woman;  he  has  sentiment  and  feelings,  and 
when  we  all  turn  on  him  he  will  act  like  a  mad 
man.  Keep  the  boy  out  of  his  sight,  I  tell  you. 
It's  the  only  thing  he  cares  for  in  the  world. 
He  has  been  a  better  father  to  him  than  you 
ever  have  been." 

'That  was  quite  natural;  that  was  because 
it  was  his  duty,"  said  the  King,  calmly.  "A 
Kalonay  has  always  been  the  protector  and 
tutor  of  the  heir-apparent.  If  this  one  chooses 
to  give  his  heart  with  his  service,  that  is  not  my 
concern.  Why,  confound  them,  they  all  think 
more  of  the  child  than  they  do  of  me.  That  is 
why  I  need  him  by  me  now." 

Barrat  shook  his  head.  "I  tell  you  it  will 
make  trouble,"  he  persisted.  "Kalonay  will 
not  stand  it.  He  and  the  child  are  more  like 
comrades  than  a  tutor  and  his  pupil.  Why, 
Kalonay  would  rather  sit  with  the  boy  in  the 
Champs-EIysees  and  point  out  the  people  as 
they  go  by  than  drive  at  the  side  of  the  pret 
tiest  woman  in  Paris.  He  always  treats  him 

275 


THE   KING'S  JACKAL 

as  though  he  saw  the  invisible  crown  upon  his 
head;  he  will  throw  over  any  of  us  to  stay  in 
the  nursery  and  play  tin  soldiers  with  him. 
And  when  he  was  ill—  Barrat  nodded  his 
head  significantly.  "You  remember." 

"That  will  do,"  said  the  King.  "We  have 
no  time  to  consider  the  finer  feelings  of  the 
Jackal;  he  is  to  be  sacrificed,  and  that  is  all 
there  is  of  it.  The  presence  of  the  child  may 
make  him  more  unmanageable,  but  it  will  cer 
tainly  make  it  easier  for  me.  So  go,  bring  the 
boy  here  as  I  bid  you." 

Barrat  left  the  room  and  returned  immedi 
ately,  followed  by  the  Crown  Prince  and  his 
nurse.  The  Prince  was  a  dark,  handsome  little 
fellow  of  four  years.  His  mother  had  died  when 
he  was  born,  and  he  had  never  played  with 
children  of  his  own  age,  and  his  face  was  ab 
surdly  wise  and  wistful;  but  it  lighted  with  a 
sweet  and  grateful  smile  when  any  one  showed 
him  kindness  or  sought  to  arouse  his  interest. 
To  the  Crown  Prince  Kalonay  was  an  awful 
and  wonderful  being.  He  was  the  one  person 
who  could  make  him  laugh  out  of  pure  happi 
ness  and  for  no  reason,  as  a  child  should  laugh. 
And  people  who  had  seen  them  together  asked 
which  of  the  princes  was  the  older  of  the  two. 
When  the  child  entered  the  room,  clinging  to 
Barrat's  finger,  he  carried  in  his  other  hand  a 

276 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

wooden  spade  and  bucket,  still  damp  with 
sand,  and  he  was  dressed  in  a  shabby  blue 
sailor  suit  which  left  his  little  legs  bare,  and  ex 
posed  the  scratches  and  bruises  of  many  falls. 
A  few  moments  later,  when  the  conspirators 
entered  the  King's  salon,  preceded  by  Erhaupt, 
they  found  the  boy  standing  by  his  father's 
knee.  The  King  had  his  hand  upon  the  child's 
head,  and  had  been  interrupted  apparently  in 
a  discourse  on  the  dignity  of  kingship,  for  the 
royal  crown  of  Messina  had  been  brought  out 
and  stood  beside  him  on  the  table,  and  his 
other  hand  rested  on  it  reverently.  It  was  an 
effective  tableau,  and  the  visitors  observed  it 
with  varying  emotions,  but  with  silence. 

The  King  rose,  taking  his  son's  hand  in  his, 
and  bowed,  looking  inquiringly  from  Barrat  to 
the  Prince  Kalonay. 

"To  what  do  I  owe  the  pleasure  of  this  visit?" 
he  asked.  "Was  it  discreet  of  you  to  come  to 
gether  in  this  way  ?  But  you  are  most  welcome. 
Place  chairs  for  the  ladies,  Barrat." 

Kalonay  glanced  at  the  others,  and  they 
nodded  to  him  as  though  to  make  him  their 
spokesman.  He  pointed  at  Gordon  with  his  cap. 

"We  are  here  on  the  invitation  of  this  gen 
tleman,  your  Majesty,"  he  said.  "He  took  it 
upon  himself  to  send  after  those  of  us  who  had 
gone  into  the  country,  and  came  in  person  for 

277 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

the  others  who  remained  in  town.  He  tells  us 
he  has  news  of  the  greatest  importance  to  com 
municate,  which  he  cannot  disclose  except  to 
you,  and  in  the  presence  of  all  of  those  who  are 
to  take  part  in  the  expedition.  We  decided  to 
accompany  him  here,  as  he  asked  us,  and  to 
leave  it  to  your  Majesty  to  say  whether  or  not 
you  wished  us  to  remain."  Kalonay  smiled  in 
apology  at  the  King,  and  the  King  answered 
him  with  a  smile. 

"The  procedure  is  perhaps  unconventional," 
the  King  said,  "but  in  America  they  move 
quickly.  No  doubt  our  young  companion  has 
acted  as  he  thought  was  for  the  best.  If  he  has 
taken  a  liberty,  the  nature  of  his  news  will  prob 
ably  excuse  him.  Perhaps,  Mr.  Gordon,"  he 
added,  turning  to  the  American,  "you  had  bet 
ter  first  tell  me  what  this  discovery  is,  and  I 
will  decide  whether  it  is  best  to  discuss  it  in 
open  council." 

Gordon  did  not  appear  to  be  the  least  dis 
turbed  by  the  criticism  Kalonay  and  the  King 
had  passed  upon  his  conduct.  He  only  smiled 
pleasantly  when  the  King  had  finished  speak 
ing,  and  showed  no  inclination  to  accept  a  pri 
vate  audience. 

"What  I  have  to  say,  your  Majesty,"  he  be 
gan,  "is  this.  I  have  learned  that  all  the  se 
crets  of  your  expedition  have  been  sold  to  the 

278 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

Republic  of  Messina.  One  of  those  now  pres 
ent  in  this  room  is  charged  with  having  sold 
them.  Shall  I  go  on,"  he  asked,  "or  do  you 
still  think  it  advisable  for  any  one  to  leave  the 

o» 

room  f 

He  paused  and  glanced  from  the  King  to  the 
double  row  of  conspirators,  who  were  standing 
together  in  a  close  semicircle  facing  the  King 
and  himself.  The  instant  he  ceased  speaking 
there  rose  from  their  ranks  an  outburst  of  con 
sternation,  of  anger,  and  of  indignant  denial. 
The  King's  spirits  rose  within  him  at  the 
sound,  although  he  frowned  and  made  a  ges 
ture  as  though  to  command  silence. 

"Mr.  Gordon,  this  is  a  serious  charge  you 
make,"  he  said,  smiling  grimly.  "One  that 
may  cost  you  a  great  deal — it  might  cost  you 
your  life  perhaps."  He  paused  significantly, 
and  there  was  a  second  outburst,  this  time  from 
the  younger  men,  which  came  so  suddenly  that 
it  was  as  though  Louis  had  played  upon  cer 
tain  chords  on  a  keyboard,  and  the  sounds  he 
wanted  had  answered  to  his  touch. 

"Pardon  me,  that  is  not  the  question,"  said 
Gordon.  "That  I  make  charges  or  run  risks  in 
making  charges  is  not  important.  That  your 
expedition  has  failed  before  it  has  even  started 
is,  however,  of  great  importance,  at  least  so  it 
seems  to  me." 

279 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

There  was  a  movement  in  the  circle,  and 
Father  Paul  pushed  his  way  forward  from  his 
place  beside  Miss  Carson's  chair.  He  was  so 
greatly  moved  that  when  he  spoke  his  voice 
was  harsh  and  broken.  "What  is  your  au 
thority  for  saying  we  have  failed?"  he  de 
manded. 

Gordon  bowed  gravely  and  turned  and  pointed 
to  the  Frenchman.  "This  gentleman,"  he  said, 
"is  General  Renauld,  Commander-in-Chief  of 
the  army  of  Messina.  He  is  my  authority.  He 
knows  all  that  you  mean  to  do.  If  he  knows  it, 
it  is  likely,  is  it  not,  that  his  army  and  the 
President  of  the  Republic  know  it  also,  and  that 
when  we  attempt  to  land  they  will  be  waiting 
for  us." 

The  King  silenced  the  second  outburst  that 
followed  this  by  rising  and  holding  up  his 
hand. 

"Silence!  I  believe  I  can  explain,"  he  said. 
He  was  smiling,  and  his  bearing  was  easy  and 
so  full  of  assurance  that  the  exclamations  and 
whispers  died  away  on  the  instant.  "I  am 
afraid  I  see  what  has  happened,"  the  King  said. 
"But  there  need  be  no  cause  for  alarm.  This 
gentleman  is,  as  Mr.  Gordon  says,  the  Com 
mander-in-Chief  of  the  Messinian  army,  and  it 
is  true  he  suspected  that  an  armed  force  would 
invade  the  island.  It  is  not  strange  that  he 

280 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

should  have  suspected  it,  and  it  needed  no 
traitor  to  enlighten  him.  The  visit  of  Father 
Paul  and  the  Prince  Kalonay  in  the  yacht,  and 
their  speeches  inciting  the  people  to  rebellion, 
would  have  warned  the  Government  that  an  ex 
pedition  might  soon  follow.  The  return  of  our 
yacht  to  this  place  has  no  doubt  been  made 
known  in  Messina  through  the  public  press, 
and  General  Renauld  followed  the  yacht  here 
to  learn  what  he  could  of  our  plans — of  our  in 
tended  movements.  He  came  here  to  spy  on 
us,  and  as  a  spy  I  ordered  Mr.  Gordon  to  ar 
rest  him  this  morning  on  any  charge  he  pleased, 
and  to  place  him  out  of  our  way  until  after  to 
night,  when  we  should  have  sailed.  I  chose 
Mr.  Gordon  to  undertake  this  service  because 
he  happened  to  speak  the  language  of  the  coun 
try,  and  it  was  necessary  to  deal  directly  with 
the  local  authorities  without  the  intervention 
of  an  outsider.  What  has  happened  is  only  too 
evident.  The  spy,  who  when  he  came  here 
only  suspected,  now,  as  Mr.  Gordon  says,  knows 
the  truth,  and  he  could  have  learned  it  only  from 
one  person,  to  whom  he  has  no  doubt  paid  a 
pretty  price  for  the  information."  The  King 
took  a  step  forward  and  pointed  with  his  hand 
at  the  American.  "I  gave  that  man  into  your 
keeping,  sir,"  he  cried,  "but  I  had  you  watched. 
Instead  of  placing  him  in  jail  you  took  him  to 

281 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

a  cafe  and  remained  there  with  him  for  three 
hours,  and  from  that  cafe  you  came  directly  here 
to  this  room.  If  he  knows  the  truth,  he  learned 
it  in  that  cafe,  and  he  learned  it  from  you!" 
There  was  a  ring  of  such  earnestness  and  sin 
cerity  in  the  King's  speech,  and  he  delivered  it 
with  such  indignation  and  bitter  contempt  that 
a  shout  of  relief,  of  approbation  and  conviction, 
went  up  from  his  hearers,  and  fell  as  quickly  on 
the  words  as  the  applause  of  an  audience  drowns 
out  the  last  note  of  a  great  burst  of  song.  Bar- 
rat,  in  the  excess  of  his  relief,  turned  his  back 
sharply  on  the  King,  glancing  sideways  at 
Erhaupt  and  shaking  his  head  in  speechless 
admiration. 

"He  is  wonderful,  simply  wonderful,"  Er 
haupt  muttered;  "he  would  have  made  a  great 
actor  or  a  great  diplomat." 

"He  is  wasted  as  a  King,"  whispered  Barrat. 

There  was  a  menacing  movement  on  the  part 
of  the  younger  men  toward  Gordon  and  Gen 
eral  Renauld,  which  the  King  noted,  but  which 
he  made  no  effort  to  check.  Neither  Gordon 
nor  General  Renauld  gave  any  sign  that  they 
observed  it.  The  American  was  busily  en 
gaged  in  searching  his  pockets,  and  from  one 
of  these  he  produced  two  pieces  of  paper,  which 
he  held  up  above  his  head,  so  that  those  in  the 
room  might  see  them. 

282 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"One  moment,  please,"  he  began,  and  then 
waited  until  the  tumult  in  the  room  had  ceased. 
"Again,  I  must  point  out  to  you,"  he  said,  in 
brisk,  business-like  tones,  "that  we  are  digress 
ing.  The  important  thing  is  not  who  did,  or 
did  not,  sell  out  the  expedition,  but  that  it  is  in 
danger  of  failing  altogether.  What  his  Ma 
jesty  says  is  in  part  correct.  I  did  not  take  this 
gentleman  to  jail;  I  did  take  him  to  a  cafe,  and 
there  he  told  me  much  more  concerning  the 
expedition  than  I  had  learned  from  those  di 
rectly  interested.  His  information,  he  told  me, 
had  been  sold  to  the  Republic  by  one  who 
visited  the  island  and  who  claimed  to  act  for 
one  other.  I  appreciated  the  importance  of 
what  he  said,  and  I  also  guessed  that  my  word 
and  his  unsupported  might  be  doubted,  as  you 
have  just  doubted  it.  So  I  took  the  liberty  of 
verifying  what  General  Renauld  told  me  by 
cabling  to  the  President  of  Messina." 

There  was  a  shout  of  consternation  at  these 
words,  but  Gordon's  manner  was  so  confident 
and  the  audacity  of  his  admission  so  surprised 
his  hearers  that  they  were  silent  again  imme 
diately,  and  waited,  with  breathless  interest, 
while  Gordon  unfolded  one  of  the  pieces  of 
paper. 

'This  is  a  copy  of  the  cablegram  I  sent  the 
President,"  he  said,   "and  to  which,  with  his 

283 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

permission,  I  signed  General  Renauld's  name. 
It  is  as  follows: — 

The  President.  The  Palace,  Messina. — They  will  not 
believe  you  are  fully  informed.  Cable  at  once  the  exact 
hour  when  they  will  leave  Tangier,  at  what  hour  they 
expect  to  land,  at  what  place  they  expect  to  land,  what 
sum  you  have  promised  to  pay  for  this  information,  and 
the  names  of  those  to  whom  it  is  to  be  paid. 

RENAULD. 

Gordon  lowered  the  paper.  "Is  that  quite 
clear?"  he  asked.  "Do  you  follow  me?  I  have 
invited  the  enemy  himself  to  inform  you  of 
your  plans,  and  to  tell  you  who  has  betrayed 
them.  His  answer,  which  was  received  a  half- 
hour  ago,  removes  all  suspicion  from  any  save 
those  he  names.  General  Renauld  and  myself 
cease  to  be  of  the  least  consequence  in  the  mat 
ter;  we  are  only  messengers.  It  is  the  Presi 
dent  of  Messina  who  will  speak  to  you  now. 
If  you  still  doubt  that  the  secret  of  your  expe 
dition  is  known  to  the  President  you  will  have 
to  doubt  him." 

The  King  sprang  quickly  to  his  feet  and 
struck  the  arm  of  his  chair  sharply  with  his 
open  hand. 

"  I  shall  not  permit  that  message  to  be  read," 
he  said.  "If  we  have  a  traitor  here,  he  is  a 
traitor  against  me.  And  I  shall  deal  with  him 
as  I  see  fit,  in  private." 

284 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

There  was  a  murmur  of  disappointment  and 
of  disapproval  even,  and  the  King  again  struck 
the  arm  of  his  chair  for  silence.  Kalonay  ad 
vanced  toward  him,  shaking  his  head  and  hold 
ing  out  his  hands  in  protest. 

;<Your  Majesty,  I  beseech  you,"  he  began. 
'This  concerns  us  all,"  he  cried.  "It  is  too 
evident  that  we  have  been  betrayed;  but  it  is 
not  fair  to  any  of  us  that  we  should  all  lie  under 
suspicion,  as  we  must  unless  it  is  told  who  has 
been  guilty  of  this  infamy.  I  beg  your  Majesty 
to  reconsider.  There  is  no  one  in  this  room  who 
is  not  in  our  secret,  and  whoever  has  betrayed 
us  must  be  with  us  here  and  now.  I,  who  have 
an  interest  second  only  to  your  own,  ask  that 
that  cablegram  be  read." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approbation  from  the 
conspirators,  and  exclamations  of  approval  and 
entreaty.  Miss  Carson,  in  her  excitement,  had 
risen  to  her  feet  and  was  standing  holding  her 
mother's  hand.  The  King  glanced  uncertainly 
at  Kalonay,  and  then  turned  to  Barrat  and 
Erhaupt  as  if  in  doubt. 

Gordon's  eyes  were  fixed  for  a  moment  on 
Kalonay  with  a  strange  and  puzzled  expression. 
Then  he  gave  a  short  sigh  of  relief,  and  turning 
quickly  searched  the  faces  of  those  around  him. 
What  he  saw  seemed  to  confirm  him  in  his  pur 
pose,  for  he  folded  the  paper  and  placed  it  in 

285 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

his  pocket.  "His  Majesty  is  right,"  he  said. 
"I  shall  not  read  this." 

Kalonay  and  Father  Paul  turned  upon  him 
angrily.  'You  have  no  choice  in  the  matter, 
sir,"  Kalonay  cried.  "It  has  passed  entirely 
out  of  your  hands." 

"I  beg  your  Majesty  that  the  cablegram  be 
read,"  the  priest  demanded,  in  a  voice  that  held 
less  the  tone  of  a  request  than  of  a  command. 

"I  shall  not  read  it,"  persisted  Gordon,  "be 
cause  the  person  chiefly  concerned  is  not  pres 
ent." 

'That  is  all  the  more  reason  for  reading  it," 
said  Kalonay.  'Your  Majesty  must  recon 
sider." 

The  King  whispered  to  Barrat,  and  the  others 
waited  in  silence  that  expressed  their  interest 
more  clearly  than  a  chorus  of  questions  would 
have  done. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  ask,"  the  King  said,  at 
last.  ;'You  may  read  the  message,  Mr.  Gor 
don." 

Gordon  opened  the  paper  and  looked  at  it 
for  some  seconds  of  time  with  a  grave  and  per 
plexed  expression,  and  then,  with  as  short 
breath,  as  one  who  takes  a  plunge,  read  it  aloud. 
c'This  is  it,"  he  said. 

To  General  Renauld.  Cable  Office,  Tangier. — They 
leave  Tangier  Tuesday  at  midnight,  they  land  at  day- 

286 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

break  Thursday  morning  on  the  south  beach  below  the 
old  breakwater.  The  secret  of  the  expedition  was  sold 
us  for  three  hundred  thousand  francs  by  the  Countess 
Zara  and  the  Prince  Kalonay. 

Gordon  stuck  the  paper  in  his  pocket,  and, 
crossing  to  Kalonay,  held  out  his  hand,  with  a 
smile.  "I  don't  believe  it,  of  course,"  he  said; 
"but  you  would  have  it." 

Kalonay  neither  saw  the  gesture  nor  heard 
the  words.  He  was  turning  in  bewilderment 
from  the  King  to  Father  Paul,  and  he  laughed 
uncertainly. 

"What  nonsense  is  this?"  he  demanded. 
"Whose  sorry  trick  is  this?  The  lie  is  not  even 
ingenious." 

General  Renauld  had  not  spoken  since  he 
had  entered  the  room,  but  now  he  advanced  in 
front  of  Kalonay  and  faced  him  with  a  threat 
ening  gesture. 

'The  President  of  Messina  does  not  lie,  sir," 
he  said,  sternly.  "I  myself  saw  the  Countess 
Zara  write  out  that  paper,  which  I  and  others 
signed,  and  in  which  we  agreed  to  pay  to  her 
and  to  you  the  money  you  asked  for  betraying 
your  King." 

Father  Paul  pressed  his  hand  heavily  on  Kalo- 
nay's  shoulder.  "Do  not  answer  him,"  he 
commanded.  Gordon  had  moved  to  Kalonay's 
other  side,  and  the  three  men  had  unconsciously 

287 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

assumed  an  attitude  of  defense,  and  stood  back 
to  back  in  a  little  group  facing  the  angry  circle 
that  encompassed  them.  The  priest  raised  his 
arm  to  command  a  hearing. 

"Where  is  Madame  Zara?"  he  cried. 

"Ah,  where  indeed?"  echoed  the  King,  sink 
ing  back  into  his  chair.  "She  has  fled.  It  is 
all  too  evident  now;  she  has  betrayed  us  and 
she  has  fled." 

But  on  his  words,  as  if  in  answer  to  the 
priest's  summons,  the  curtains  that  hid  the 
door  into  the  King's  private  room  were  pulled 
to  one  side,  and  Madame  Zara  appeared  be 
tween  them,  glancing  fearfully  at  the  excited 
crowd  before  her.  As  she  stood  hesitating  on 
the  threshold,  she  swayed  slightly  and  clutched 
the  curtains  for  a  moment  as  though  for  sup 
port.  The  priest  advanced,  and  led  her  to  the 
centre  of  the  room.  She  held  a  folded  paper  in 
her  hand,  which  she  gave  to  him  in  silence. 

"You  have  heard  what  has  passed?"  he 
asked,  with  a  toss  of  his  head  toward  the  heavy 
curtains.  The  woman  raised  her  head  and 
bowed.  The  priest  unfolded  the  paper. 

"Am  I  to  read  this?"  he  asked.  The  woman 
bowed  again. 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  while  the 
priest's  eyes  ran  quickly  over  the  paper.  He 
crushed  it  in  his  hand. 

288 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"It  is  as  General  Renauld  says,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "In  this  the  Republic  of  Messina 
agrees  to  pay  the  Countess  Zara  and  the  Prince 
Kalonay  three  hundred  thousand  francs,  if  the 
expedition  is  withdrawn  after  it  has  made  a 
pretense  of  landing  on  the  shores  of  Messina." 

He  took  a  step  forward.  "Madame  Zara," 
he  cried,  in  a  tone  of  warning,  "do  you  pretend 
that  the  Prince  Kalonay  was  your  accomplice 
in  this;  that  he  knew  what  you  meant  to  do?" 

Madame  Zara  once  more  bowed  her  head. 

"No!  You  must  speak,"  commanded  the 
priest.  "Answer  me!" 

Zara  hesitated,  in  evident  distress,  and  glanced 
appealingly  at  the  King;  but  the  expression  on 
his  face  was  one  of  grief  and  of  unrelenting 
virtue. 

"I  do,"  she  said,  at  last,  in  a  low  voice. 
"Kalonay  did  know.  He  thought  the  revolu 
tion  would  not  succeed;  he  thought  it  would 
fail,  and  so — and  so — and  we  needed  money. 
They  made  me — I,  O  my  God,  I  cannot — I  can 
not!"  she  cried,  suddenly,  sinking  on  her 
knees  and  hiding  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Kalonay  stepped  toward  her  and  lifted  her 
gently  to  her  feet;  but  when  she  looked  and  saw 
who  it  was  that  held  her,  she  gave  a  cry  and 
pulled  herself  free.  She  staggered  and  would 
have  fallen,  had  not  Gordon  caught  and  held 

289 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

her  by  the  arm.  The  King  rose  from  his  chair 
and  pointed  at  the  shrinking  figure  of  the 
woman. 

"Stand  aside  from  her,"  he  said,  sternly. 
"Why  should  we  pity  her,  what  pity  has  she 
shown  for  us — for  me?  She  has  robbed  me  of 
my  inheritance.  But  let  her  go,  she  is  a  woman; 
we  cannot  punish  her.  Her  sins  rest  on  her  own 
head.  But  you — you,"  he  cried,  turning  fiercely 
on  Kalonay,  his  voice  rising  to  a  high  and  mel 
ancholy  key,  "you  whom  I  have  heaped  with 
honors,  whom  I  have  leaned  upon  as  on  the  arm 
of  a  brother,  that  you  should  have  sold  me  for 
silver,  that  you  should  have  turned  Judas!" 

The  crowd  of  volunteers,  bewildered  by  the 
rapid  succession  of  events,  and  confused  and 
rendered  desperate  by  the  failure  of  their  expe 
dition,  caught  up  the  word,  and  pressing  for 
ward  with  a  rush,  surrounded  Kalonay  in  an 
angry  circle,  crying  "Judas!"  " Traitor!"  and 
"Coward!" 

Kalonay  turned  from  side  to  side.  On  some 
he  smiled  bitterly  in  silence,  and  at  others  he 
broke  out  into  swift  and  fierce  denunciations; 
but  the  men  around  him  crowded  closer  and 
would  not  permit  him  to  be  heard.  He  had 
turned  upon  them,  again  challenging  them  to 
listen,  when  there  was  an  opening  in  the  circle 
and  the  men  stepped  back,  and  Miss  Carson 

290 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

pushed  her  way  among  them  and  halted  at 
Kalonay's  side.  She  did  not  look  at  him,  but 
at  the  men  about  him.  She  was  the  only  calm 
figure  in  the  group,  and  her  calmness  at  such  a 
crisis,  and  her  youth,  and  the  fineness  and  fear 
lessness  of  her  beauty,  surprised  them  into  a 
sudden  quiet.  There  was  instantly  a  cry  for 
order,  and  the  men  stood  curious  and  puzzled, 
watching  to  see  what  she  would  do. 

"Gentlemen,"  she  said,  in  a  clear,  grave  voice. 
"Gentlemen,"  she  repeated,  sharply,  as  a  few 
murmurs  still  greeted  her,  "if  you  are  gentle 
men,  let  this  lady  speak.  She  has  not  finished." 
She  crossed  quickly  and  took  the  Countess  Zara 
by  the  hand.  "Go  on,  madame,"  she  urged, 
gently.  "  Do  not  be  afraid.  You  say  they  made 
you  do  it.  Who  made  you  do  it?  You  have 
told  us  a  part  of  the  truth.  Now  tell  us  the 
whole  truth."  For  a  moment  the  girl  seemed 
much  the  older  of  the  two,  and  as  Zara  glanced 
up  at  her  fearfully,  she  smiled  to  reassure  her, 
and  stroked  the  woman's  hand  with  her  own. 
"Who  made  you  do  it?"  she  repeated.  "Not 
the  Prince  Kalonay,  surely.  You  cannot  hope 
to  make  us  believe  that.  We  trust  him  abso 
lutely.  Who  was  it,  then?" 

The  King  sprang  forward  with  an  oath;  his 
apathy  and  mock  dignity  had  fallen  from  him 
like  a  mask.  His  face  was  mottled,  and  his 

291 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

vicious  little  eyes  flashed  with  fear  and  anger. 
Erhaupt  crowded  close  behind  him,  crouching 
like  a  dog  at  his  heels. 

"She  has  lied  enough  already,"  the  King 
cried.  "We  will  not  listen  to  her.  Take  her 
away." 

"Yes,  let  her  go,"  shouted  Erhaupt,  with  a 
laugh.  "If  she  had  been  a  decent  woman- 
There  was  a  quick  parting  in  the  group  and 
the  sound  of  a  heavy  blow  as  Kalonay  flung 
himself  upon  Erhaupt  and  struck  him  in  the 
face,  so  that  he  staggered  and  fell  at  length 
upon  the  floor.  Gordon  stood  over  him,  his 
fingers  twitching  at  his  side. 

"Stand  up,  you  bully,"  he  said,  "and  get 
out  of  this,  before  we  throw  you  out." 

Zara's  face  had  turned  a  pitiful  crimson,  but 
her  eyes  flashed  and  burned  with  resolve  and  in 
dignation.  She  stood  erect  and  menacing,  like 
an  angry  goddess,  and  more  beautiful  in  her 
indignation  than  they  had  ever  seen  her. 

"Now,  I  shall  tell  them  the  truth,"  she  said, 
sternly.  "That  man,"  she  cried,  pointing  her 
finger  at  the  King,  "that  man  whom  they  call  a 
King — that  man  who  would  have  sacrificed  the 
only  friend  who  serves  him  unselfishly — is  the 
man  who  sold  your  secret  to  the  enemy.  It  was 
he  who  made  me  do  it.  He  sent  me  to  Messina, 
and  while  the  priest  and  the  Prince  Kalonay 

292 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

were  working  in  the  south,  I  sold  them  to  the 
Government  at  the  capital.  Barrat  knew  it, 
Erhaupt  knew  it,  the  King  himself  planned  it 
—to  get  money.  He  has  robbed  all  of  his  own 
people;  he  had  meant  to  rob  this  young  girl; 
and  he  is  so  mean  and  pitiful  a  creature  that  to 
save  himself  he  now  tries  to  hide  behind  the 
skirts  of  a  woman,  and  to  sacrifice  her, — the 
woman  who  has  given  her  soul  to  him.  And 
for  this — my  God!"  she  cried,  her  voice  rising 
in  an  accent  of  agony  and  bitter  contempt—  "for 
this!" 

There  was  a  grim  and  momentous  silence  in 
the  room  while  Zara  turned,  and  without  wait 
ing  to  learn  what  effect  her  words  might  have, 
made  her  way  swiftly  through  the  crowd  and 
passed  on  out  of  the  room  and  on  to  the  terrace 
beyond. 

The  King  crouched  back  in  his  chair  like  a 
common  criminal  in  the  dock,  glancing  fear 
fully  from  under  his  lowered  eyebrows  at  the 
faces  about  him,  and  on  none  did  he  see  the  least 
question  of  doubt  but  that  Zara  had  at  last 
spoken  the  truth. 

"She  lies,"  the  King  muttered,  as  though  an 
swering  their  unspoken  thoughts,  "the  woman 
lies." 

There  was  no  movement  from  the  men  about 
him.  Shame  for  him,  and  grief  and  bitter  disap- 

293 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

pointment  for  themselves,  showed  on  the  face 
of  each.  From  outside  a  sea-breeze  caught  up 
the  sand  of  the  beach  and  drove  it  whispering 
against  the  high  windows,  and  the  beat  of  the 
waves  upon  the  shores  filled  out  and  marked  the 
silence  of  the  room. 

The  Prince  Kalonay  stepped  from  the  circle 
and  stood  for  a  moment  before  the  King,  re 
garding  him  with  an  expression  of  grief  and  bit 
ter  irony.  The  King's  eyes  rose  insolently,  and 
faltered,  and  sank. 

"For  many  years,  your  Majesty,"  the  Prince 
said,  but  so  solemnly  that  it  was  as  though  he 
were  a  judge  upon  the  bench,  or  a  priest  speak 
ing  across  an  open  grave,  "the  Princes  of  my 
house  have  served  the  Kings  of  yours.  In  times 
of  war  they  fought  for  the  King  in  battle,  they 
beggared  themselves  for  him  in  times  of  peace; 
our  women  sold  their  jewels  for  the  King,  our 
men  gave  him  their  lives,  and  in  all  of  these 
centuries  the  story  of  their  loyalty,  of  their  de 
votion,  has  had  but  one  sequel,  and  has  met 
with  but  one  reward, — ingratitude  and  selfish 
ness  and  treachery.  You  know  how  I  have 
served  you,  Louis.  You  know  that  I  gave  up 
my  fortune  and  my  home  to  go  into  exile  with 
you,  and  I  did  that  gladly.  But  I  did  more 
than  that.  I  did  more  than  any  king  or  any  man 
has  the  right  to  expect  of  any  other  man.  I 

294 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

served  your  idle  purposes  so  well  that  you,  your 
self,  called  me  your  Jackal,  the  only  title  your 
Majesty  has  ever  bestowed  that  was  deserved. 
There  is  no  low  thing  nor  no  base  thing  that  I 
have  not  done  for  you.  To  serve  your  plea 
sures,  to  gain  you  money,  I  have  sunken  so  low 
that  all  the  royal  blood  in  Europe  could  not 
make  me  clean.  But  there  is  a  limit  to  what  a 
man  may  do  for  his  King,  and  to  the  loyalty  a 
King  may  have  the  right  to  demand.  And  to 
day  and  here,  with  me,  the  story  of  our  devo 
tion  to  your  house  ends,  and  you  go  your  way 
and  I  go  mine,  and  the  last  of  my  race  breaks 
his  sword  and  throws  it  at  your  feet,  and  is 
done  with  you  and  yours  forever." 

Even  those  in  the  room  who  held  no  sym 
pathy  in  their  hearts  for  the  sentiment  that  had 
inspired  the  young  man,  felt  that  at  that  mo 
ment  and  in  their  hearing  he  had  renounced 
what  was  to  him  his  religion  and  his  faith,  and 
on  the  faces  of  all  was  the  expression  of  a  deep 
pity  and  concern.  Their  own  adventure,  in 
the  light  of  his  grief  and  bitterness  of  spirit, 
seemed  selfish  and  little,  and  they  stood  mo 
tionless,  in  an  awed  and  sorrowful  silence. 

The  tense  strain  of  the  moment  was  broken 
suddenly  by  the  advent  on  the  scene  of  an  actor 
who  had,  in  the  rush  of  events,  been  neglected 
and  forgotten.  The  little  Crown  Prince  had 

295 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

stood  clinging  to  his  nurse's  skirts,  an  uncom 
prehending  spectator  of  what  was  going  for 
ward.  But  he  now  advanced  slowly,  feeling 
that  the  silence  invited  him  to  claim  his  father's 
notice.  He  halted  beside  the  chair  in  which 
Louis  sat,  his  head  bent  on  his  hands,  and  made 
an  effort  to  draw  himself  up  to  his  father's 
knee. 

But  the  King  pushed  him  down,  and  hid  his 
face  from  him.  The  child  turned  irresolutely, 
with  a  troubled  countenance,  and,  looking  up, 
saw  that  the  attention  of  all  was  fixed  upon 
him.  At  this  discovery  a  sudden  flood  of  shy 
ness  overtook  him,  and  he  retreated  hastily 
until  his  eyes  fell  on  the  Prince  Kalonay,  stand 
ing  alone,  with  his  own  eyes  turned  resolutely 
away.  There  was  a  breathless  hush  in  the  room 
as  the  child,  with  a  happy  sigh,  ran  to  his  for 
mer  friend  and  comrade,  and  reached  up  both 
his  arms.  The  tableau  was  a  familiar  one  to 
those  who  knew  them,  and  meant  only  that 
the  child  asked  to  be  lifted  up  and  swung  to 
the  man's  shoulder;  but  following  as  it  did  on 
what  had  just  passed,  the  gesture  and  the  atti 
tude  carried  with  them  the  significance  of  an 
appeal.  Kalonay,  as  though  with  a  great  effort, 
lowered  his  eyes  to  the  upturned  face  of  the 
child  below  him,  but  held  himself  back  and 
stood  stifHy  erect.  A  sharp  shake  of  the  head, 

296 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

as  though  he  argued  with  himself,  was  the  only 
sign  he  gave  of  the  struggle  that  was  going  on 
within  him. 

At  this  second  repulse,  the  child's  arms 
dropped  to  his  side,  his  lips  quivered,  and  he 
stood,  a  lonely  little  figure,  glancing  up  at  the 
circle  of  men  about  him,  and  struggling  to  press 
back  the  tears  that  came  creeping  to  his  eyes. 

Kalonay  regarded  him  steadfastly  for  a  brief 
moment,  as  though  he  saw  him  as  a  stranger, 
searching  his  face  with  eyes  as  pitiful  as  the 
child's  own;  and  then,  with  a  sudden,  sharp 
cry,  the  Prince  dropped  on  his  knee  and  caught 
the  child  toward  him,  crushing  him  against  his 
heart,  and  burying  his  face  on  his  shoulder. 
There  was  a  shout  of  exultation  from  the  nobles, 
and  an  uttered  prayer  from  the  priest,  and  in 
a  moment  the  young  men  had  crowded  in  around 
them,  struggling  to  be  the  first  to  kiss  the  child's 
hands,  and  to  ask  pardon  of  the  man  who  held 
him  in  his  arms. 

"Gentlemen,"  Kalonay  cried,  his  voice  laugh 
ing  through  his  tears,  "we  shall  still  sail  for  the 
island  of  Messina.  They  shall  not  say  of  us 
that  we  visited  the  sins  of  the  father  on  a  child. 
I  was  weak,  my  friends,  and  I  was  credulous. 
I  thought  I  could  break  the  tradition  of  cen 
turies.  But  our  instincts  are  stronger  than  our 
pride,  and  the  house  I  have  always  served  I 

297 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

shall  serve  to  the  last."  He  swung  the  Crown 
Prince  high  upon  his  shoulder,  and  held  his 
other  arm  above  his  head.  "You  will  help  me 
place  this  child  upon  his  throne,"  he  com 
manded,  and  the  room  rang  with  cheers.  'You 
will  appeal  to  his  people,"  he  cried.  "Do  you 
not  think  they  will  rise  to  this  standard-bearer, 
will  they  not  rally  to  his  call?  For  he  is  a  true 
Prince,  my  comrades,  who  comes  to  them  with 
no  stain  of  wrong  or  treachery,  without  a  taint, 
as  untarnished  as  the  white  snow  that  lies 
summer  and  winter  in  the  hollow  of  our  hills, 
'and  a  child  shall  lead  us,  and  a  child  shall  set 
them  free/  To  the  yacht!"  he  shouted.  "We 
will  sail  at  once,  and  while  they  wait  for  us  to 
be  betrayed  into  their  hands  at  the  north,  we 
shall  be  landing  in  the  south,  and  thousands  will 
be  hurrying  to  our  standard." 

His  last  words  were  lost  in  a  tumult  of  cheers 
and  cries,  and  the  young  men  poured  out  upon 
the  terrace,  running  toward  the  shore,  and  fill 
ing  the  soft  night-air  with  shouts  of  "Long  live 
the  Prince  Regent!"  "Long  live  our  King!" 

As  the  room  grew  empty  Kalonay  crossed  it 
swiftly  and  advancing  to  Miss  Carson  took  her 
hand.  His  face  was  radiant  with  triumph  and 
content.  He  regarded  her  steadily  for  a  mo 
ment,  as  though  he  could  not  find  words  to  tell 
his  feelings. 

298 


He  swung  the  crown  prince  high  upon  his 
shoulder. 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"You  had  faith  in  me,"  he  said,  at  last. 
"Can  I  ever  make  you  understand  how  much 
that  means  to  me?  When  all  had  turned 
against  me  you  trusted  me,  you  had  faith  in 
me,  in  the  King's  Jackal." 

"Silence;  you  must  never  say  that  again," 
the  girl  commanded,  gently.  "You  have  shown 
it  to  be  the  lie  it  always  was.  We  shall  call  you 
the  Defender  of  the  Faith  now;  you  are  the 
guardian  of  a  King."  She  smiled  at  the  little 
boy  in  his  arms,  and  made  a  slight  courtesy  to 
them  both.  "You  have  outgrown  your  old 
title,"  she  said;  "you  have  a  proud  one  now, 
you  will  be  the  Prince  Regent." 

Kalonay,  with  the  child  in  his  arms,  and  Miss 
Carson  were  standing  quite  alone.  General 
Renauld  had  been  led  away,  guarded  by  a 
merry  band  of  youngsters;  the  King  still 
crouched  in  his  chair,  with  Barrat  bowed  be 
hind  him,  but  pulling,  with  philosophic  calm, 
on  a  cigarette,  and  Father  Paul  and  Gordon 
were  in  close  conversation  with  Mrs.  Carson  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  room.  The  sun  had  set, 
and  the  apartment  was  in  semi-darkness.  Kalo 
nay  moved  closer  to  Miss  Carson  and  looked 
boldly  into  her  eyes.  "There  is  a  prouder  title 
than  that  of  the  Regent,"  he  whispered;  "will 
you  ever  give  it  me?" 

The  girl  started,  breathing  quickly,  and 
299 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

turned  her  head  aside,  making  an  effort  to  free 
her  hand,  but  Kalonay  held  it  closer  in  his  own. 
"Will  you  give  it  me?"  he  begged. 

Then  the  girl  looked  up  at  him  smiling,  but 
with  such  confidence  and  love  in  her  eyes  that 
he  read  his  answer,  though  she  shook  her  head, 
as  though  to  belie  the  truth  her  eyes  had  told 
him. 

"When  you  have  done  your  work,"  she  said, 
"come  to  me  or  send  for  me,  and  I  shall  come 
and  give  you  my  answer;  and  whether  you  fail 
or  succeed  the  answer  will  be  the  same." 

Kalonay  stooped  quickly  and  kissed  her  hand, 
and  when  he  raised  his  face  his  eyes  were  smil 
ing  with  such  happiness  that  the  little  child  in 
his  arms  read  it  there,  and  smiled  too  in  sym 
pathy,  and  pressed  his  face  closer  against  his 
comrade's  shoulder. 

Gordon  at  this  moment  moved  across  the 
room  and  bowed,  making  a  deep  obeisance  to 
the  child. 

"Might  I  be  permitted,"  he  asked,  "to  kiss 
his  Royal  Highness?  I  should  like  to  boast  of 
the  fact,  later,"  he  explained. 

The  Crown  Prince  turned  his  sad,  wise  eyes 
on  him  in  silence,  and  gravely  extended  a  little 
hand. 

"You  may  kiss  his  Highness's  hand,"  said 
Kalonay,  smiling. 

300 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

Gordon  laughed  and  pressed  the  fingers  in  his 
own. 

"When  you  talk  like  that,  Kalonay,"  he  said, 
"you  make  me  feel  like  Alice  in  the  court-room 
with  the  Kings  and  Queens  around  her.  A 
dozen  times  this  afternoon  I've  felt  like  say 
ing,  'After  all,  they  are  only  a  pack  of  cards.'  J 

Kalonay  shook  his  head  and  glanced  toward 
Miss  Carson  for  enlightenment. 

"I  don't  understand,"  he  said. 

"No,  you  couldn't  be  expected  to,"  said 
Gordon;  "you  have  not  been  educated  up  to 
that.  It  is  the  point  of  view." 

He  stuck  out  the  middle  finger  of  his  hand, 
and  drove  it  three  times  deliberately  into  the 
side  of  the  Crown  Prince.  The  child  gasped 
and  stared  open-mouthed  at  the  friendly 
stranger,  and  then  catching  the  laugh  in  Gor 
don's  eyes,  laughed  with  him. 

"Now,"  said  Gordon,  "I  shall  say  that  I  have 
dug  the  King  of  Messina  in  the  ribs — that  is 
even  better  than  having  kissed  him.  God  bless 
your  Royal  Highness,"  he  said,  bowing  gravely. 
"You  may  find  me  disrespectful  at  times,"  he 
added;  "but  then,  you  must  remember,  I  am 
going  to  risk  a  valuable  life  for  you.  At  least 
it's  an  extremely  valuable  one  to  me." 

Kalonay  looked  at  Gordon  for  a  moment  with 
serious  consideration,  and  then  held  out  his 

301 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

hand.  "You  also  had  faith  in  me,"  he  said. 
"I  thank  you.  Are  you  in  earnest;  do  you 
really  wish  to  serve  us?" 

"I  mean  to  stay  by  you  until  the  boy  is 
crowned,"  said  the  American,  "unless  we  sepa 
rate  on  our  several  paths  of  glory — where  they 
will  lead  depends,  I  imagine,  on  how  we  have 
lived." 

"Or  on  how  we  die,"  Kalonay  added.  "I 
am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  so.  If  you  wish,  I 
shall  attach  you  to  the  person  of  the  Crown 
Prince.  You  shall  be  on  the  staff  with  the  rank 
of  Colonel." 

Gordon  made  a  low  and  sweeping  bow. 

"Rise,  Sir  Archibald  Gordon,"  he  said.  "I 
thank  you,"  he  added.  "We  shall  strive  to 
please." 

Miss  Carson  shook  her  head  at  him,  and 
sighed  in  protest. 

"Will  you  always  take  everything  as  a  joke, 
Archie?"  she  said. 

"My  dear  Patty,"  he  answered,  "the  situa 
tion  is  much  too  serious  to  take  in  any  other 
way." 

They  moved  to  the  door,  and  there  the  priest 
and  Mrs.  Carson  joined  them;  but  on  the 
threshold  Kalonay  stopped  and  looked  for  the 
first  time  since  he  had  addressed  him  at  the 
King. 

302 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

He  regarded  him  for  some  seconds  sternly  in 
silence,  and  then  pointed,  with  his  free  hand, 
at  the  crown  of  Messina,  which  still  rested  on 
the  table  at  the  King's  elbow.  "Colonel  Gor 
don,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  assured  authority, 
"I  give  the  crown  of  Messina  into  your  keep 
ing.  You  will  convey  it,  with  all  proper  regard 
for  its  dignity,  safely  on  board  the  yacht,  and 
then  bring  it  at  once  to  me." 

When  he  had  finished  speaking  the  Prince 
turned  and,  without  looking  at  the  King,  passed 
on  with  the  others  across  the  terrace  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  direction  of  the  shore,  where 
the  launch  lay  waiting. 

Gordon  crossed  the  room  and  picked  up  the 
crown  from  the  table,  lifting  it  with  both  hands, 
the  King  and  Barrat  watching  him  in  silence  as 
he  did  so.  He  hesitated,  and  held  it  for  a  mo 
ment,  regarding  it  with  much  the  same  expres 
sion  of  awe  and  amusement  that  a  man  shows 
when  he  is  permitted  to  hold  a  strange  baby  in 
his  arms.  Turning,  he  saw  the  sinister  eyes  of 
the  King  and  of  Barrat  fastened  upon  him,  and 
he  smiled  awkwardly,  and  in  some  embarrass 
ment  turned  the  crown  about  in  his  hands,  so 
that  the  jewels  in  its  circle  gleamed  dully  in  the 
dim  light  of  the  room.  Gordon  raised  the  crown 
and  balanced  it  on  his  finger-tips,  regarding  it 
severely  and  shaking  his  head. 

303 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

"  There  are  very  few  of  these  left  in  the  world 
now,  your  Majesty,'*  he  said,  cheerfully,  "and 
the  number  is  getting  smaller  every  year.  We 
have  none  at  all  in  my  country,  and  I  should 
think — seeing  they  are  so  few — that  those  who 
have  them  would  take  better  care  of  them,  and 
try  to  keep  them  untarnished,  and  brushed  up, 
and  clean."  He  turned  his  head  and  looked  in 
quiringly  at  the  King,  but  Louis  made  no  sign 
that  he  heard  him. 

"I  have  no  desire,  you  understand  me,"  con 
tinued  Gordon,  unabashed,  "to  take  advantage 
of  a  man  when  he  is  down,  but  the  tempta 
tion  to  say  'I  told  you  so*  seems  almost  impos 
sible  to  resist.  What?"  he  asked—  "I  beg  your 
pardon,  I  thought  you  spoke."  But  the  King 
continued  scornfully  silent,  and  only  a  con 
temptuous  snort  from  Barrat  expressed  his 
feelings. 

Gordon  placed  the  crown  carefully  under  his 
arm,  and  then  removed  it  quickly,  with  a  guilty 
look  of  dismay  at  its  former  owner,  and  let  it 
swing  from  his  hand;  but  this  fashion  of  carry 
ing  it  seemed  also  lacking  in  respect,  so  he  held 
it  up  again  with  both  hands  and  glanced  at  the 
King  in  some  perplexity. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  sofa-cushion  to  go  with 
this,  or  something  to  carry  it  on,"  he  said,  in  a 
grieved  tone.  "You  see,  I  am  new  at  this  sort 

304 


THE  KING'S  JACKAL 

of  thing.  Perhaps  your  Majesty  would  kindly 
give  me  some  expert  information.  How  do  you 
generally  carry  it?" 

The  King's  eyes  snapped  open  and  shut  again. 

"On  my  head,"  he  said  grimly. 

Gordon  laughed  in  great  relief. 

"Now,  do  you  know,  I  like  that,"  he  cried. 
"That  shows  spirit.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  take 
it  so  cheerfully.  Well,  I  must  be  going,  sir,"  he 
added,  nodding,  and  moving  toward  the  door. 
"Don't  be  discouraged.  As  some  one  says, 
'It's  always  morning  somewhere,'  and  in  my 
country  there's  just  as  good  men  out  of  office  as 
there  are  in  it.  Good  night." 

While  the  sound  of  Gordon's  footsteps  died 
away  across  the  marble  terrace,  the  King  and 
Barrat  remained  motionless  and  silent.  The 
darkness  in  the  room  deepened  and  the  silence 
seemed  to  deepen  with  it;  and  still  they  re 
mained  immovable,  two  shadowy  figures  in  the 
deserted  apartment  where  the  denunciations  of 
those  who  had  abandoned  them  still  seemed  to 
hang  and  echo  in  the  darkness.  What  thoughts 
passed  through  their  minds  or  for  how  long  a 
time  they  might  still  have  sat  in  bitter  contem 
plation  can  only  be  guessed,  for  they  were  sur 
prised  by  the  sharp  rattle  of  a  lock,  the  two 
great  doors  of  the  adjoining  room  were  thrown 
wide  open,  and  a  broad  and  brilliant  light 

305 


flooded  the  apartment.  Niccolas,  the  King's 
major-domo,  stood  between  the  doors,  a  black 
silhouette  against  the  glare  of  many  candles. 

"His  Majesty  is  served!"  he  said. 

The  King  lifted  his  head  sharply,  as  though 
he  found  some  lurking  mockery  in  the  words,  or 
some  fresh  affront;  but  in  the  obsequious  bow 
of  his  major-domo  there  was  no  mockery,  and 
the  table  beyond  glistened  with  silver,  while  a 
pungent  and  convincing  odor  of  rich  food  was 
wafted  insidiously  through  the  open  doors. 

The  King  rose  with  a  gentle  sigh,  and  nodded 
to  his  companion. 

"Come,  Barrat,"  he  said,  taking  the  baron's 
arm  in  his.  "The  rascals  have  robbed  us  of  our 
throne,  but,  thank  God,  they  have  had  the 
grace  to  leave  me  my  appetite." 


306 


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